


The Shadows that Follow

by Sonder74



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hydra (Marvel), Other, Sokovia (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonder74/pseuds/Sonder74
Summary: Novi Grad, Sokovia was a demolished town a long time before Ultron and the Avengers arrived on the scene. Melina Angelova knows this well. HYRDA has always been a looming threat over her life, their crimson heads watching everything she says and does. What she doesn’t know is just how connected she is to HYDRA - how her past intertwines with the future of both herself and the world. She doesn’t know just how quickly long-standing loyalty can shift. But she will.
Kudos: 4





	1. The Tolling of the Bells

A gust of frigid wind raked across my face, blowing away the bursts of frozen breath that billowed out of my lungs. I inwardly cursed at myself for agreeing to meet so far away from home and at such a late hour. 

The trail I trekked along was overgrown and dusted in snow, but I could still find my way within the dense wood. The brilliant full moon lit my hazy path. It smelled of frosted pine needles and the crispness of air that only came after an evening snowfall. 

I dug my fingers deeper into my coat, trying to warm them as best I could. My hands wrapped themselves around the small scrap of paper and bundle in the deep pockets. 

There was nothing temperate about Sokovian winters. 

The trail sloped upwards, leading to an outcropping of rock. Once, a long time ago, it had been my castle. Or my pirate ship. Or a hidden lair for spies. But it always remained my playhouse - my one place to get away from home.

I tripped up the steep incline to it, gasping for breath. When I reached it, I burrowed into its smooth side. It was poor shelter from the wind, but it gave me an excellent view of the moon hanging over my town. 

Novi Grad, pale and poor against the brilliance of night, was still brimming with life. Dad loved these sorts of nights. Crystal and clear, when it felt like anything could happen.

People laughed and the faintest bit of music could be heard drifting in the air. The capital of Sokovia, it was the place nowhere special on the way to everywhere special. All fifteen years of my life were spent there and there was nowhere else I could call home. 

I began to hum along and brought my knees to my chest. It was a drinking song that everyone knew and relished. It didn’t rhyme and it was a little crude. It unkindly alluded to the failed state of our government, but in a way that wasn’t offensively open enough for prosecution.

In a word: it was perfect.

Too far away from anywhere special

Too close to those who know everything

Poor Sokovia! Poor Novi Grad!

Had it not been for the downing of a bottle

Or the emptiness of our pockets

Maybe we could be the place!

But alas, we are nowhere special.

Thanks to- never mind. 

As the last note slipped from my lips, I felt a freezing rush of air blast against my face and work its way up my coat. I gasped with the unexpected chill racing along my spine. I jerked my head to the side when I realized someone was standing on top of the rock. 

“Pietro?” I whispered. 

His steely eyes glinted with mischief as he smirked. He gave a small bow and held out a hand. 

“Yours truly, Milena.”

I grasped it and he gracefully lifted me out of the snow. My mouth fell agape as my childhood friend stood in front of me, suddenly all grown up. 

He squeezed my hand. “I’m glad you came.”

“Y-you look so different,” I eventually stuttered out. It was true. He was no longer the stick-figure with slumped posture and chestnut curls. He was muscular; his hair was nearly silver, just a touch of brown at the roots, and he stood proudly, like he had finally figured out his purpose. 

Only his steely eyes were the same. And they still held such life. 

Pietro grinned at me. I noticed, with a blush, that his teeth were no longer crooked, but perfectly straight and white. “It’s been three years. It’s no wonder I’ve changed.”

“Where have you and Wanda been all this time? It hasn’t been the same without you.”

His gaze darkened and he let go of me. “Surely you heard about my parents?”

I lowered my eyes. “I was at their funeral, kotyonek.” He softened ever-so-slightly at the use of his childhood nickname. 

Kotyonek was the name I gave him when we first met, when he had unsuccessfully tried to snatch sweet rolls from my mother’s booth all those years ago. He used to be a slight little thing, as agile and sneaky as a cat. It also didn’t hurt that he always landed on his feet. 

His eyes still had the crafty feline look to them. 

I hurriedly dashed the memory, realizing I had been silent for several long seconds. “And the next week you two were gone. I searched everywhere for you, to the ire of my mother’s ladle.” The small of my back winced in distant memory. 

“We had to do something, Milena. We couldn’t let our lives be dictated by powerful men such as Stark anymore. We weren’t going to allow our parents’ memory to get lost like so many others. Too many orphans have been created by Stark. Too many widows.”

They weren’t the only people outraged by the bombings. My father and I were in the streets as well, protesting and calling for justice. Within a week, they had disappeared, along with so many others determined to make a difference. As for the rest of Novi Grad, we continued doing what we did best: rebuilding. 

“I understand, Pietro. I really do. I was just. . .” I stumbled, trying to find an adequate word to express just how much I missed the Maximoff twins. Especially Pietro. 

I blinked back sudden tears. I mourned for them for two whole years, my only true family gone. Now one of them was back, standing right in front of me. He took a careful step closer, the familiarity of childhood making the movement comfortable for both of us. He hesitantly reached up and tugged on the end of one of my light caramel braids. 

“Where’s Wanda?” I asked.

He gestured behind him to the wide expanse of the forest. “Only one of us can get away at a time. Wanda elected me to go first because. . . well, I’m faster.” He gave a wry shrug. 

“You must have been. I didn’t see anyone drop the note in my booth yesterday.” I crossed my arms and gave him a playful frown. “Or take the sweet roll that was originally in its place.”

“Had to get your attention somehow. And to be fair, that was the best thing we’ve eaten in three years.”

The note crinkled in my pocket as my fingers wrapped around it. Two days ago, when I had been tending to my mother’s stall in the market, I realized one of the baked goods had been taken. I was about to call the police to look for a thief when I realized there was a small scrap of paper in its place. It simply said: The fort is under attack! We need your assistance to defend it. Two days from now. Midnight. - P

Only two people knew about my fort. And only one ever offered to help protect it. Wanda preferred to be the princess giving orders from afar.

“I missed you, Pietro.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could catch them. 

His expression morphed into one of boyish charm. “I missed you, too, Melina.”

Before I lost the nerve, I stood on my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck. At first, he was stiff in my hug, but he warmed and his arms fell around my waist and hugged me even tighter. Even after all these years, he still smelled slightly of butterscotch, like those drops his mother used to buy. I buried my face in his shoulder, grateful to have something to hold onto for once. 

After a few precious moments, I backed away. He watched me curiously, no doubt memorizing me as I did him. Trying to see past the teenager to the child we had once been. 

“Why did you decide to come back after all these years? Why didn’t you say goodbye? Why isn’t Wanda here? Why didn’t you wait to say hello in the market? Why didn’t you let me know you were okay?”

He merely blinked in the face of all my questions. Infuriatingly calm at my rising tone. “Lisichka. . .” he trailed off, running a hand through his forever messy, wind-blown hair. 

I twitched at the nickname. Little Fox. If Pietro was as agile as a cat, than I was a fox, always light on my toes. 

He glanced at my watch. “I’ve stayed away too long already. I don’t have time to fill you in about the entire story.”

“Away from what?” I huffed, more frustrated by the second. “You just got here. I need answers, Pietro!”

“Melina, I know, but it’s not the time.”

I grabbed his arm before he could turn away. I had to ask the most important question. “Why tonight, of all nights?”

Pietro grabbed my shoulders and looked deep into my eyes. “I wanted to tell you that tomorrow won’t be safe. HYDRA has something planned-“

“HYRDA? How do you know what. . .” All breath escaped my body as I looked into the forest behind Pietro’s shoulder. “Oh no.”

A secret HYDRA base was hidden within the mountains surrounding Novi Grad. It had only stayed hidden this long because of the fear they created. The last person to stand up against them was used as an example. 

They made sure everyone saw his slow, agonizing death. 

“Pietro, what have you done?” I whispered. 

He shook my shoulders, getting my attention again. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll explain someday. Stay indoors tomorrow. All day long, you stay hidden. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Don’t step out of line. Promise?”

“But-“

“Promise me!”

The desperation in his voice made me nod. “I promise.”

His jaw tightened. “I’m sorry for everything, Milena.”

I dug in my jacket pocket and pulled out the thick packet. It was a bundle of forty-eight letters, tightly held together by twine. They smelled faintly of cinnamon as I held it out to him.

His eyes widened when he took it. 

“I wrote you every time I felt the pain of missing you guys would crush me. And a couple times for fun.” I took in a sharp breath. “I knew the next time I saw you I could give them to you.”

He gently took them, a surprised puff escaping from his lungs. “I’ll read them before I see you again.” Gently squeezing my fingertips, Pietro looked beyond me, at Novi Grad.

“Promise it’ll be soon.” I insisted, tugging on his arm. I had to have something to hold on to. 

He didn’t day anything, merely stuffed them into his jacket and disappeared back into the forest.

I pressed my lips together, trying to hold back the disappointment rolling through me. This was not how I imagined how we would reunite. I expected. . . I don’t know.

Maybe something along the lines of Wanda as the beautiful princess; Pietro as the dashing knight. We would stay up for hours, catching up and reminiscing. Maybe they would come back and start their life over again. 

It’s what the note alluded to, anyways. 

I sighed and turned on my heel, beginning the long trek back home. 

Though, Pietro had certainly grown into the dashing knight description. Three years ago, he wasn’t nearly as attractive as he was now. No doubt Wanda would be stunning with her dark hair and fathomless russet eyes.

Which left me. Awkward and forever girlish looking. All freckles and dimples. It didn’t help that my hair was always in two braids. Mother insisted that they were kept away from my face during baking hours. I just always forgot to take them out afterwards. 

I glanced down at my watch. 12:30. I would have to be up at 4 to get everything ready for market. My steps became a little faster, knowing that whatever sleep I got would be the only thing to keep me upright the next day.

\- -

I knew the instant I walked into Novi Grad, the ground underneath me turning from frosted grass to cracked, uneven cobblestones. 

Another drinking song drifted through the cracked window panes of a bar. Every night, no matter the day of the week, desperate people eventually gravitated to one. Novi Grad wasn’t a place you wanted to go, it was simply where you ended up. 

I kicked a can out of my path, sending it clattering to the over-full gutter. Snowflakes clung to my eyelashes in an oddly picturesque way.

Or at least I thought so.

I chuckled at my fantastical thought. Even in the frostiness, a blush was warm enough to coat my cheeks. I was stupidly romantic. It was the only thing for me to survive life in my household.

I always imagined a life full of wonder and adventure. One with a handsome man that protected me against all harm; he adored me and gave me love notes and the occasional flower. We would take trains all across Europe, sail to the Americas, maybe even tour Asia. 

But who, in Navi Grad, could afford such a luxury as travel? Every penny we earned was used to keep us alive the next day. Whatever we saved was used to rebuild, again and again, the countless times we’ve had to do so.

The street widened as I reached my apartment. I scrambled up the fire escape to our fifth floor window. It was dirty and cracked along the edges, but it was home. 

I slipped through the window I had left slightly opened. I landed in our kitchen and winced when the pane rattled a little too loudly.

Sighing in relief, I sagged against the wall and looked at our minuscule kitchen. All our furniture was mismatched, a telltale sign of buying whatever was cheapest. No plate or cup was the same. It was ramshackle and pieces together by hope and glue, but it was home. 

From the way my mind was whirring, I knew sleep was impossible tonight. I stood and reached for the flour tin. Might as well get an early start on getting everything ready for market the next morning. 

I turned on the radio to a classical station and set a kettle on to boil, music and tea were luxuries hard to come by in this household so I enjoyed them together when I could. Usually when Mom was asleep. 

As I rolled and formed the dough used for sweet breads and other rolls, I began to think. The pain from missing the last connection of my childhood stabbed through my heart again. Of all the times to come back into my life, now was the time? Why?

The kettle whistled, bringing me sharply out of my thoughts.

Suddenly the violin ground to a halt. “We would like to interrupt this broadcast to inform you of an irregular occurrence in America’s capital, Washington DC.”

I sipped my tea, wanting the music back on but too tired to have to move and change the channel.

“Three large, unknown aircraft exploded today over SHIELD’s base. Unknown number of casualties have been occurred. One of them, Captain America, has yet to be found.” I stood straighter, staring at the radio in shock. “The intent of the operation and whom by has yet to been discovered. Please be careful. That is all. Next, Mozart’s Symphony No. 40 in G minor. . .”

The rest of the message was drowned out by my stunned thoughts.The message behind the broadcast was easy enough to understand. HYDRA was behind this. And since the town of Novi Grad was close to their base, we were in deeper trouble than the rest of the world. 

No doubt the soldiers would be eager for blood tomorrow. 

I placed the cup back on the counter, hands trembling. I clasped them tightly to my chest to keep them still. 

Hadn’t we suffered enough from HYDRA’s fear? Everyone was eager to be out from under their regime. The police had tried to gather help from other nations, but HYDRA had intercepted all calls and emails. Their intelligence was beyond intrusive - it was omniscient.

One time, after I recovered from a particularly severe case of the flu, I got a get well card with HYDRA’s seal encasing the envelope. Not even my neighbors knew I was sick. We knew we were under the HYDRA microscope because of my Dad, but not that closely monitored. 

Mom had been worried before, but after that, she made us get rid of all technology - including my phone - and began homeschooling me when she had the time. Which meant, I mostly learned about baking and running a small business. 

Eventually, everyone gave up. HYDRA was our new master, forever watching over us and reprimanding us when needed. As one of the last divisions of the rogue scientist nation left, they had to protect their secrets at all costs. 

I relieved and refreshed myself in the bathroom, brushing out my hair and rebraiding it. While I was doing so, I stared frankly at myself, comparing my appearance to the imagined version I had of myself in my daydreams. My cheekbones were slightly pronounced, with freckles heavily sprinkled across them. My eyes were a waxen blue, bright as the cornflowers Mom embroidered on our aprons. 

I was pretty, if not beautiful. I wasn’t an exotic princess like Wanda, but perhaps a daughter of a diplomat, important and sought after for-

“Melina?”

Sighing, I glanced up to see Mom, dark hair bundled up, ready to begin. 

“Is the dough ready?”

I glanced at my watch. 5:30. “It must be; you slept in.”

She grimaced. “My alarm didn’t go off. I’ll help you get things in the oven.”

Nodding, I turned and gathered the pans from the drying rack. We worked in silence, as we always did. A couple hours later, we had several baskets of perfectly shaped goods. 

“Can you take over the booth today?” I asked. “I’m exhausted.”

“You were the one to get up early. You can nap this afternoon. I have to get groceries for tomorrow.” Her eyes dropped to my hip. “Do you have it?”

My stomach soured, but I nodded. “I never leave home without it.”

Exhaustion made my body droop as I gathered the basket in my arms. We walked in the awakening city. Shutters began to opening as yawning shopkeepers began to set up.

Our booth was tucked between a fragrant fruit stand and a coffee seller who sold vibrant grains by the cup. We set out rugs on overturned crates and expertly displayed our merchandise. After we did that, we draped another quilt over it to keep out the frigid wind. 

Our stall had a small heater in the back which was well-used in this weather. I grabbed a quilt and bundled myself in it. 

“I’m off to gather groceries for tomorrow. Watch the stall.” Mom ordered, before stepping back into the street.

I shrugged, indifferent, as I turned the heater. I pounded the side of the it, trying to get it active again. Or at least to get it to emit some sort of warmth. 

“Good morning, Melina.” I glanced up to see widow Karine bending over to peer into the booth. I smiled and stood when I saw her.

“Good morning.” 

Her observant grey eyes flicked over my exhausted face first, then trailed down to my shaking knees and muddy boots.

“Out parrying all night, then?” she asked, a small smile playing across her lips.

“If there was a party ever in this town that didn’t involve alcohol, no doubt I would be there.”

Her eyes twinkled as she handed me several coins in payment. 

“Keep smiling, Melina, more people need to see the twinkle in your beautiful eyes.”

I brushed a plait over my shoulder and beamed at her. “I needed to hear that today, thank you.”

She nodded and continued on her way. Forever our first customer, she always had a compliment to lift my spirits. 

The next few hours were spent either gritting a forced smile at hagglers who couldn’t seem to risk a few more cryllics and shivering in front of the heater. I kept a careful eye on our stall, just in case Pietro happened to stop by once more. 

Whispers abounded in the street. People bent their heads and gossiped as well as they could about the strange ‘accident’ in America, no doubt with HYDRA playing somewhat of a role. Captain America had seemingly been found on the banks of a river - an announcement I missed when we were setting up shop. He was recovering, but that gave everyone even more to worry over. 

HYDRA didn’t take to losing easily. And they had a nasty habit of taking out that anger on people who couldn’t defend themselves. 

Such as the people of Novi Grad. 

I shifted in my seat, nervously watching the road that led to their base. Though obscured further up the path by mountains and trees, there was enough warning so people could scramble back into their houses.

I glanced at the policemen leaning against a railing, sipping their coffee. They acted as if there was nothing to worry about. But their hands that strayed a little too close to their holsters spoke otherwise. 

Don’t draw attention to yourself, Pietro had said. Don’t step out of line. 

His words erased any doubt that he was innocent of HYDRA’s doings. He knew they were going to strike. Or at least, that something was going to happen today.

I chewed my lip nervously as I hurried to help another customer. 

The morning stretched on, and I almost believed it was going to be a normal day. Right when I decided that, the tanks began to roll in. 

My stomach plummeted. The church bell began to clang, louder and louder until I could barely hear the rumbling of the incoming invasion. 

With no time to think, I folded the rugs and hid them underneath the crates. I flipped the off-switch to the heater and scrambled for whatever cash I had earned. 

I closed my eyes in weariness when I remembered he had told me something else: stay indoors. 

Everything around me was hazy, even with the adrenaline spiking through my veins. The one night I don’t go to bed early - go figure. I rubbed at my temples, trying to focus. 

I vaulted over the crates and darted into one of the alleyways across the street. I pressed myself up against the wall as I watched them come into view. The sign of HYDRA - the skull with snakes curling around it - was displayed proudly in blood red across their helmets and chests. Guns were held aloft, in positions that spoke of men with too much power and too little restrictions. 

They had first come under pretenses of peace; they were SHIELD, coming to rebuild and revitalize our destitute city. It sickened me that they thought it was alright to feel entitled to what little we had. SHIELD or HYDRA, we soon realized, it didn’t make much of a difference. 

I reached under my coat for the pistol at my hip, but a breeze of wind came from behind me. I felt a hand over mine, pushing the gun back into its hidden place.

“Not now,” a soft voice murmured in my ear. In a blink, it was gone.

I whirled around, trying to pinpoint who had spoken. But no one was behind me in the cluttered alleyway. My nerves rattled as I turned back to the troops. One man rested in the back of an open tank, his gaze calculating everything. 

Strucker. My blood went cold. 

The monocle alone was able to identify one of HYDRA’s top scientists. Or mercenaries, depending how you viewed it. He surveyed the square with the cold calculation of someone who thought little of monetary consequences. Merely what must be done for his greater good. 

I ducked back, praying he hadn’t seen me. He was a dangerous man to be noticed by. 

By now the streets had completely cleared. Even the occasional drunk was hidden away. The church bell slowly stopped clanging, leaving the air heavy with apprehension.

Why was I still here? I could easily slip away now and no one would be the wiser. But my father’s teaching told me otherwise. That thinking was futile. Without the bell, my footsteps would be easily heard. Any move I made could be easily tracked by them. 

Not to mention whatever mysterious spirit told me to not draw my weapon. 

My exhaustion had clouded my thinking. I rubbed at my temples, trying to restart my brain somehow. 

All I could do is wait with bated breath. I shifted into a crouching position, waiting on the balls of my feet. When it came time, I could run. I breathed in deep, trying to steady my trembling body. 

The sky was grey as a few snowflakes drifted from the overcast. I was getting cold and anxious, my legs growing numb. With a glance at my watch I realized HYDRA hadn’t moved in twenty minutes. What were they waiting for?

“There is a girl in one of the alleyways to your left. Bring her to me. Alive.” I realized, with a slice of fear, Strucker was talking about me. 

I scrambled to my feet and began sprinting away. I barely made it a few steps before a gust of mind knocked me over. Pietro was suddenly in front of me, his face set in hard lines. I blinked in surprise. 

“I told you to stay indoors!” he said, grabbing me by my upper arm and heaving me off the ground. 

“That last part was kind of overshadowed by the whole ‘my best friend is back and alive’ news,” I hissed back, marching his ire for mine.

He said nothing, merely yanking me towards Strucker. I couldn’t struggle out of his grasp, he was too strong. I was marched and forced to kneel in front in front of the HYDRA leader. He raised his chin at me. “This is a new one,” he addressed Pietro as he said this. 

Realizing this was my chance without his attention pinned on me, I remembered my father’s teaching: strike early and quick. With years of practiced reflex, I pulled the gun out of the holster and pointed it directly at Strucker’s forehead. His eyes widened in slight surprise.

I couldn’t help by smirk. “What? You didn’t see that coming?”

I thought I heard the faintest snort from Pietro. 

“A new one with gumption,” Strucker said. He leaned forward slightly, studying my posture, my face, my finger millimeters from the trigger. “I don’t suppose you would be willing enough to tell us your name?”

My jaw tightened. 

“Melina Angelova.” A voice, distinctly feminine and melodic drifted from one of the cars. My heart sank when I realized who it was. Wanda.

She was dressed in black, but her somewhat crazed appearance stood out starkly against the uniform soldiers. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that highlighted her angled features.

And I thought Pietro looked different. While he had grown into his tall frame, Wanda had become deadly looking. The heavy black eyeliner definitely didn’t help to soften her look. 

“Daughter of Ivan and Galina Angelova. Her father served in Sokovian Special Operations.” She continued. “Her father was killed two years ago in duty. Her mother owns a booth for breads.” 

How did she know when he died? They weren’t here. I shook away the thought as she absentmindedly flicked her fingers over to our dilapidated booth, though her eyes stayed firmly on the gun in my hand. My arms were beginning to tire from the strain. No doubt she was watching to see when I would lower it. 

Strucker seemed almost pleased at my biography. “The Angelova? This is going much better than I was expecting, considering the failure in DC yesterday.”

“Let me go,” I said through gritted teeth. I was going to pull the trigger before my arms went out. 

“Pietro,” Strucker said.

A felt a cold blast of wind as my gun was plucked from my fingers and placed into Strucker’s open palm. I gasped as realized it was Pietro who had moved so fast, tendrils of hazy blue marking his movements. 

“You volunteered,” I remarked, dumbly, when comprehension settled in. 

I felt something yank my arm down and I saw scarlet ribbons covering my wrists, keeping them tightly together. Wanda’s eyes were glowing the same color and I felt an ominous tug in my stomach. 

I wasn’t dealing with my childhood friends anymore. No, these were teenagers with abilities beyond my imagination. Pietro with speed that rivaled wind and Wanda with something more sinister that crimson ropes, no doubt.

“You,” Strucker pointed to a squadron. “Finish what we came here for. Ms Angelova is coming with us. Wanda, knock her out.”

Wanda nodded as I swallowed dryly. She gestured with her hands to create a ball of moving red. With a delicate flick of her wrists, it went spiraling into my head. 

My eyes rolled into the back of my skull as I was suddenly in a memory far from where I was.

\- -


	2. The Drawing of the Knife

“Melina, focus.”

My six-year-old self stuffed away a giggle as my father placed a heavy object in my hand. My palm dipped as I tried to hold it up. It was a sleek, black gun, with the Sokovian crest etched into the side, along with a number: 34713.

Dad knelt in front of me and pointed to the number. “That’s your number, sweetheart.”

“Number for what?”

“The number that marks you as one of our own. I am part of the Sokovian special operations, and by extension, you are as well.” His cornflower blue eyes softened as he took the gun from my hand. “The world isn’t going to be safe for you, Melina. You need to learn to protect yourself. Before the month is out, you will learn how to use it and basic hand-to-hand combat.”

I studied the gun, then my father. “But won’t you be here to protect me?”

“Not always. You can depend on others for help, but only you can fully protect yourself.” He pulled me into his lap. I buried myself in his embrace, knowing he would not be gentle with me while we trained.

“But I do promise to give you the tools to survive by yourself, no matter what happens to Mom or I.”

“I love you, Dad.”

He squeezed me. “Same here. Now let’s get to work.”

\- -

My head throbbed as I came back into consciousness. I didn’t shift or speak as I tried to gain my bearings - another lesson Dad taught me.

I wasn’t moving, so it didn’t seem to me that I was in a car or being transported. Wherever I was, it was cold. A kind of cold that pressed deep into my bones and made me shiver.

My eyes flickered open. I stared at the opposite wall, where Wanda was watching me right back. Her knees were brought tightly to her chest as she studied me. Her hair had come out of the ponytail, wisps floated around her face, softening the hardness that I did not recognize.

The cell was dingy and dirty, the tiled wall full of cracks and a squalid shade of yellow. The cot I was laying on smelled of acrid sweat and mold. There was a glass door on one wall, the one opposite, a large window that displayed nothing more than a brick wall. No doubt for observation from the other side. 

My arms were draped over a ledge, loosely chained, as well as my ankles. There wasn’t going to be an easy way out of this situation.

Deciding that Wanda must have realized I was awake by now, I tried for some sort of conversation. “You were inside my head,” I said, wincing at the roughness I’d my voice.

“Yes.”

I closed my eyes against the overwhelming tiredness that rolled through me. Even though I had been technically unconscious for however long, I still hadn’t slept and there was nothing that I wanted more than a blissful, worry-free nap. Though, the fact I was now in a HYDRA base told me unguarded sleep would be a long time coming.

There was a faint dripping sound far away, and once I first heard the noise, it echoed in every crevice or my brain. Drip-drip. Drip-drip. I hurried to fill the silence between us.

“So you volunteered? Why, Wanda?”

She watched me. Her eyes were suddenly filled with fire. “Stark took everything from us. He destroyed our home, killed our parents. We want revenge. And the only way to do that is to become powered ourselves. I was hesitant at first, but we both have come a long way. What we once were is nothing compared to what we are now.”

Drip-drip.

Her eyes gradually turned red, like smoldering embers. I watched my once sweet and innocent friend turn into a revenge seeker in a matter of moments. I longed to ask where that left me. My friends were super, now. Perhaps not heroes, but they were far more powerful than I.

Drip-drip. Drip-drip.

So why was I here in HYDRA’s base? What purpose did I serve? Then I felt my stomach drop. Was I going to become another of Strucker’s experiments? Another guinea pig for him to prod and test?

Strucker entered the cell, Pietro on his heels “Miss Angelova.” The scientist’s voice was as chilly as a Sokovian winter and just as slick. The flickering fluorescent light turned his bespectacled eye an ominous green.

I struggled into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. My restraints clanked together, tugging on my arms and I realized they were looped through the bed frame.

Luckily, I was still wearing my clothes. I half expected them to change me into an ill-fitting asylum uniform. That was something, at least. My holster pressed into my side, empty. Of course, that was to be expected.

“Strucker,” I replied.

He flicked his fingers and the twins exited. As Pietro shut the door, he sent me a puzzling glance. But before I could decipher it, he was gone.

I turned my whole attention on Strucker. He was unarmed, except for the knife dangling from his belt. Guessing from the scars on his hands, he had learnt how to use it.

“Perhaps you are wondering why you are here.”

“I’m not going to volunteer, if that’s what you were wondering.” My chin ticked slightly upwards with indignation.

After the attacks happened on Novi Grad, after Pietro and Wanda lost their parents, but before I said my final goodbye to my Dad, HYDRA asked for volunteers. They asked for those willing to fight for their revenge. Those willing to be experimented on to further HYDRA’s goals. Of the hundred or so that left, none ever returned. Not a word was heard from them after they disappeared into the foreboding fortress.

I didn’t think, not for a moment, that the twins went to HYDRA. I thought they had higher morals then that.

“Given your history, I wasn’t expecting you to.”

I cocked my head. “Then why?”

He leaned against the wall, giving an air of nonchalance that I immediately distrusted. Not that he had earned anything but distrust from our interactions.

“The twins need someone to practice on. Someone who has been taught by the best. And someone who has a personal connection with them.” He leaned in closer. “Not to mention, I would prefer to keep an eye on someone as talented as you. You could make an interesting recruit.”

I recoiled. “Are you mad? You’ve kidnapped me, and now I’m going to be forced to be a punching bag for my once friends? I’m going to have to train them? Why not one of your soldiers?”

“They are trained for basic combat. You, Miss Angelova, have been trained by the best.” He studied me coldly. “They don’t know about your past, do they? The one you tried so hard to hide while they were in Novi Grad. The one you used to embrace to the fullest.”

“Does it matter anymore?”

“You just said they were once your friends.”

Maybe they had once been, but I didn’t recognize them anymore. I closed my eyes and collapsed against the wall. I played with the ends of a braid, my mind whirring to find some sort of solution.

No ideas came.

“What happens to my family?”

“Nothing. . . If you cooperate.”

“I’ll need proof.”

He shrugged, as if this was no big deal. As if the human lives hanging in the balance meant nothing.

“Very well,” I agreed, berating myself instantly after the words left my mouth. They tasted bitter, worse then defeat.

“Good. I’ll let you rest. We will talk about your function tomorrow.”

He turned in his heel and slammed the door shut. I jumped. The light overhead flickered off, gloom descending upon my cell. I curled into a ball, lowering my head into my arms.

Though I wanted to focus and figure out a plan of escape, tears came first. My shoulders began to shake as sobs contorted my stomach. I fell onto my side and let the emotion roll out of me with each tear dripping down my cheeks.

Drip-drip. Drip-drip. Drip-drip. Drip-drip.

Sometime later, once the shaking finally subsided, I wiped my eyes and swollen cheeks with the sleeve of my jacket. Emotions had always made me a weak soldier in the eyes of my father, but it made me more human than the Maximoff twins at least.

Completely and totally exhausted, I drew my coat tighter and allowed sleep to overtake me.

\- -

Morning came much too early after a fitful night of tossing and turning. What time I did sleep was overtaken by nightmares of people moving faster than bullets and crimson strands criss-crossing my vision. The incessant drip-drip didn’t help, either.

Breakfast was porridge, cold and hard. Little wonder Pietro stole the rolls if this was all I had to look forward to. Strucker came soon after, strutting in with purpose.

He slipped the shackles from the bed frame before dropping them to the floor. “These will be used only when you are in your room. The twins will be able to handle you if you decide to disobey orders.” He hissed the last word, tightening his grip on my wrist.

My throat dried up as I nodded. He left the cell with an ominous glance over his left shoulder. I looked over at the window wall to see the twins, both their arms crossed. Wanda, her brow furrowed, was murmuring something to her brother. He gave a small smile to whatever she said, then they both walked out of frame.

I brushed the hair out of my face, realizing my braids were coming undone. They would just have to be cleaned up later. I chuckled at myself. I was kidnapped and held against my will in a HYDRA base and I was worried about being presentable.

“I told you to hide.” Pietro was leaning against the doorway, his posture tense. I glanced up and sighed, knowing we weren’t going anywhere until he said his piece.

“No,” I said, “you told me to stay quiet and pretend that everything was business as usual. Which I did. What you didn’t tell me was that HYDRA was coming to invade Novi Grad and that I was going to be taken as a prisoner.”

“I couldn’t tell you everything. Then you would get suspicious and we would be arguing until dawn. I couldn’t take that risk.”

I threw my hands up. “And that is worse than being honest with me?”

“You don’t understand. I couldn’t be gone for more than thirty minutes. They would have realized-“

“Fine, fine! Let’s just get this over with.”

I tried to brush by him in the doorway, but he slipped a hand around my wrist, holding me tight by his side. His breath tickled as he whispered in my ear. “We’ll help you through this. Trust us. We’ve been through this a lot longer than you have. Whatever we say is for your best.”

Further down the hallway, Wanda gave the slightest nod. My stomach tightened. I slipped out of Pietro’s grasp and followed her.

We walked through endless, twisting corridors. I was completely lost within a few turns but I continued to resolutely march behind Wanda.

Dad’s training came back to me then. I marked all the possible exits, counted all the heavily armored soldiers we passed, and fingered my empty holster regretfully. How I wished I had a weapon!

Maybe if I had hidden my gun instead of drawing it, I wouldn’t be unarmed now. I bit my lip, forcing myself to change the track of my thoughts. I would get nowhere by being remorseful. I needed to focus, to find some way out of this.

The hallways were linear, yet twisted, leaving me more lost than ever. I glanced behind me to Pietro, who was completely stone-faced. His jaw clenched when he felt my gaze and he didn’t meet my eyes.

We walked through several heavy iron doors to a large, open room. Windows bordered the edges. Sunlight glinted through them, casting rainbows onto the padded floor. Beyond the glass was a sweeping view of frosted trees and mountains. Novi Grad was hidden from view, but my body felt tugged towards it, like a string permanently wrapped around my heart.

Weapons were neatly arranged on the wall and targets rested against a shelf of guns. I ran my gaze across them. They were incredibly well built and expensive. The ones I had trained with were nothing compared to these.

My stomach knotted. Why take away my gun if these weapons had been so easily provided for me? I thought better of it when I saw Wanda’s studying eyes. No doubt she knew what I was thinking.

I wasn’t exactly keeping my ire of this place hidden.

I ran a hand over a neat row of knives, careful not to nick my fingers. Towards the end of the row there were much smaller ones. Even though I felt their eyes on me, I tucked the folded pocket knife up my sleeve, hooking it to the ridge inside. Hopefully it would stay hidden.

There was a small box of ear plugs and I gratefully slipped a couple in my ears. I dryly swallowed when I turned to to twins. “How do you get the targets ready?”

Wanda waved a hand and a lever clicked on the wall, sending the targets into a whirring pattern. I grasped a pistol off of the wall, testing the weight in my palms. It had been years since I had done something like this.

I used two hands to hold it up, glancing down the barrel. Excitement sparked in me and my eyes brightened, shoulders straightening. I aimed and fired off rounds at the targets before loosely dropping my arm.

The adrenaline from shooting quickly ebbed away to overwhelming exhaustion. Everything get numb, from my toes to my heart. I just wanted to sleep, eat a boatload of ice cream, and wrap myself up in a cocoon of blankets.

“You can shoot?” Pietro exclaimed. His hands were clapped over his ears, staring at the holes in each of the center of the targets.

Of course I could use a gun. My father was best friends and fellow solider of Helmut Zemo, Sokovian Special Operations. There was no way he would let me out of the house without some kind of training.

Especially in his particular line of work.

I took out the earplugs and folded my arms. “Yes, I can.”

Wanda frowned, seemingly impressed. “So there is a reason Strucker forced you here. You can teach us how to fight.”

The still-hot gun clattered to the floor. “I don’t want this. I don’t want to teach you anything. I want to go home!” I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender.

Pietro tore a hand through his already disheveled hair. “You don’t get it, do you? Your Mom is already in danger because you’re here. HYDRA will be keeping that much of a closer eye on her. If you step out of line, she’ll pay for it.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to step out of line,” Wanda said. She rubbed her wrist and her eyes unfocused, so much unspoken pain in her expression.

“What happened if you stepped out of line?” I asked, trying not to think about Mom. That was much too painful. “You have no others to worry about. Except each other.”

Pietro locked gazes with me. The steel of his eyes betrayed no outward emotion, yet I could read the turmoil writhing inside. It was in his stare that I realized the answer.

“Oh,” I whispered, dropping my eyes to the gun. A beat passed. “What am I supposed to teach you?”

Pietro shrugged. “We have abilities, but not how to fight. That is what you are here for. Strucker is a researcher, not a warrior.”

I barked a laugh. “And you think I’m a fighter?”

They both glanced at the targets and then back at me. “You must know something,” Wanda said.

If they only knew how much. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to stuff the thunderous emotions deep into the pit of my stomach. “Show me what each of you can do.”

Pietro smirked, as if he had been longing to show off for some time now. He briefly stretched, throwing me a look of mischief . . . And was that grin flirtatious?

I frowned at myself. That kind of thinking would not help me at all.

He began to run in hyper speed, creating bursts of wind that spiraled around me. Wisps of hair tickled the sides of my face. Pietro only seemed to pick up speed. I could barely stay on my feet for how much a vortex he created, I attempted a look of nonchalance, even though the ability to move that fast was incredibly impressive.

Pietro finally halted inches from my nose. He was smirking. Oh, how little he had changed. From the gleam in his eye, I knew he was a little disappointed his showing off didn’t make me blush or giggle or something similar.

The little flirt.

“Mm. Okay. You’re fast,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Very original. What about you, Wanda?”

She spread her hands out wide and crimson began to leak from her body. Her eyes became red. I took a step back as the targets lifted from their mounts and began to hover.

Her brow furrowed in deep concentration. In response to her gesturing, each of the targets began spinning clockwise faster and faster. They soon became a blur of motion, looking like the rotation of a car wheel: going so fast it almost seemed to be going backwards,

She fell to her knees and the targets all fell with a clatter. Panting, she wiped the sweat from her brow.

I nodded approvingly. “Telekinesis?”

“Technically it’s called a psionic ability. And I can read people’s minds.”

The memory of my father surfaced. The memory seemed so real and tangible. It couldn’t have been just a simple mind reading. I was right back to the moment that changed my life. “I don’t think that’s all you can do.”

“It’s all I’ve figured out so far.”

“Well, either way, it’s impressive.”

Her head dipped, suddenly bashful.

My brain began whirring, analyzing what I had seen. I was too tired to be overly impressed or intimidated, but I was definitely in awe of what my friends had become. Super speed and telekinesis?

Three years ago, Pietro could barely walk without tripping over his long legs and Wanda struggled in all areas of school. Yet, here they were. Full of abilities and determined to bring Stark down.

And here I was: daughter of a Sokovian special operative and a baker. Well trained in weaponry and infiltration, baking and running a business, yet I never found pleasure in any of those things.

The only people I ever found been completely comfortable with were standing right in front of me, vastly changed from I what I could ever have imagined.

The door swung open to reveal several HYDRA soldiers. The carmine symbol glinted dangerously in the sunlight, reminding me of a bloody knife.

Out of habit, I took a hasty step back.

They walked towards me, their heavy boots thudding in tandem with my frantically beating heart.

“Wait,” Wanda said, stepping in front of me. “This isn’t what she was brought her for. Leave her alone.” The panic was clear in her voice.

“Stand aside, Maximoff.”

Her fists flared red. The guard readied a club.

“I won’t tell you again.”

Pietro darted forward and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He whispered something in her ear. The crimson dropped away, leaving trembling fingers. Her chin touched her chest, all the fight drained out of her. They both stepped away.

My stomach squeezed tightly. If Wanda was this worried about something, this could not be good. Pietro shot me a steadying glance. His eyes were filled with emotion not dared displayed on his face. 

The soldiers stepped to either side of me, swallowing my arms in iron grips. I realized struggle would be futile. Though, I still attempted to shake them off, muttering, “I can walk by myself.”

I flexed my fingers and twitched my wrist. The hidden knife fell from its hiding place; it perfectly slid into my palm. I clicked the button on the side and a jagged point zinged out.

The sound of it doing so was muffled by a forced cough from one of the twins. Somehow, I could tell they were covering for me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing on steadying my breathing. Whatever came next, I needed to be as centered in my body as possible. My muscles tensed.

Let’s get this over with.

\- -


	3. The Whispering of the Wind

I dropped to my knees. My weight brought the two soldiers crashing into each other, their helmets giving a sickening crack when their heads careened off of each other. I winced, but had no time to regret my actions.

I rolled out from under their bodies, tucking the knife to my chest. Their grips lost strength and I was no longer being held.

Another soldier came sprinting into the room. He cried loudly in German and took the pistol from his belt. He aimed at me. His eyes hardened.

I scrambled to one of the fallen guards. I needed to get some kind of weapon. Anything to defend me. The standing soldier fired his gun. My ears exploded at the noise. I prepared for some kind of impact, but none came.

Since I wasn’t hit, I yanked out the pistol and raised it to the guard. I briefly pondered how he missed me at such a close range. But there was too much going on for me to worry much about it.

I fired the gun, hitting him in the shoulder. He reeled back. His pistol flew from of his hands and clattered somewhere far behind him. My ears rang painfully from the gunshot.

Several more guards entered and I charged at them, swinging my knife back and forth. The next few minutes were a blur of fighting and disarming, punches and kicks. I received several blows in the stomach and chest; my wrist twisted painfully underneath a stern hit from a club. I cried out but kept fighting.

Just as Dad taught me.

A few moments later, I stood alone, surrounded by moaning, immobile bodies. I flipped the knife back up my sleeve and took stock of the fallen people around me. It had been years since I fought this hard and my chest heaved.

The twins were staring agape at me. Their eyes wide in shock. I held the gun up and pointed it at them. “How do I get out of here?”

“Lisichka. . .”

I thumbed the safety off. “I’ll ask again: how do I get out of here?”

Pietro’s hand ticked upwards in surrender.

“Squeeze the trigger,” Wands said, drawing my attention towards her.

Her response was so off-putting that I almost lowered the gun in surprise. There was no doubt in her eyes, simply a firm resolve that startled me. But my close scrutiny of her face gave me the slightest clue: her eyes moving a fraction above my shoulder.

Without thinking, I spun in my heel and fired. The pistol exploded from the hand of the soldier who stood behind me. He threw up his hands in surrender

I cocked my head, considering. “Take off your armor.” He hesitated. “Remember that I shot the gun from your hand not five seconds ago.”

The soldier unfastened quickly, yanking off his helmet and leaving the rest in a heap. It was odd to see that there was a face underneath the HYDRA symbol. After years of seeing them just as faceless mercenaries, it was jarring to see that human life belonged underneath the metal shell.

I shoved the gun in my holster and dressed. Up close it was easy to see the armor’s flaws, as if it had been taken apart and stitched back together one too many times. I yanked on the helmet, tucking my braids into the fold of the collar. It was a large suit of armor, but I had decent movement, at least. If I came down to it, I could fight.

“Stay here,” I said to them, my voice metallic behind the mask. Since the twins had made no move to stop me so far, I doubted they would try now. The three left standing nodded their heads as I sprinted out the doorway, only stopping to swoop a discarded pistol form the floor into my palms.

Using the tricks Dad taught me, I moved swiftly through the hallways while barely making a sound. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears but I forced myself to breathe as quietly as I could as I stalked through the empty corridors and stairwells. Everything was deserted, but I could still hear the thumping of far away footsteps and murmurs of distant conversations.

My only hope was that the alarm wouldn’t be raised until I was out of the compound.

The hallways were narrow and dark, frigid in a way that chilled to the bone and left everything numb. My breath fogged up the helmet’s panel. When I came upon a window, I unlatched it and peered out. Below was a walkway stretching around the bulk of the building, winding towards a heavily guarded gate, beyond which was a well-used road.

That was probably the way I came in. But, there was no was I was getting out like that. Too many people would notice if I used that as my escape route.

I gnawed my lip and glanced the other direction. The path led deeper to a courtyard, right in the center of the fortress. Both of these options were equally bad.

Footsteps pounded further down the hallway. Of course it had to get worse. I grumbled and shoved the gun in the top of my boot. It was a loose fit but hopefully one that would hold.

I swung myself out the window, careful to keep a solid grip on the sill. My boots scraped against the side of the wall and searched for some kind of foothold. The fall would easily be fifty, sixty meters. There would be no way I could drop and expect to walk away unharmed.

Fight, Melina! Dad’s voice echoed in my ears. There’s always a way to outthink a situation, but you have to fight for it.

I glanced up, past the window and up to the roof, which was an easy reach from the sill. My arms were beginning to tremble and my injured wrist screamed in pain, so I knew I had to work quickly. I hoisted myself up, grunting, straining against my too-weak muscles.

Finally, I was able to stand on the still and grasp the gutter above me. I heaved myself up again, silently cursing my younger self for not staying true to the exercise schedule Dad had me follow strictly for five years. Stupid, stupid me.

The tiles on the roof were slick with slushy snow, half melted in the weak, noon sun. I scrabbled away from the edge when I heard someone click the safety off of a gun. My fingers combed through the snow for some kind of handhold, eventually finding a weak link in the tiles. I dug my fingers deep into the crevice and clung to it.

I yanked my helmet off and heaved it to my left, far over the edge. It whistled as it fell, giving the most satisfying crash as it slammed into the cobblestones below. I heard shouts of surprised guards and footsteps pounding to the impact site. A relieved breath whistled through my clenched teeth.

A quick glance along the rooftop showed me that I wasn’t going to get very far like this. Time to rethink. I cocked my head, calculating the distance between my rooftop and one a little farther down to my right, about five meters below mine. I could make that jump.

It took twenty, painstakingly careful minutes for me to slide towards it. My boots were pressed against the gutter as leverage to keep me from falling, my hands searching for grips at every opportunity. It didn’t take long for all of me to be absolutely numb. My muscles ached from the strain and wisps of hair kept flying into my eyes by frosty wind.

Finally, I reached it. I allowed myself a minutes’ rest before heaving myself over the gutter and hanging by my fingertips. A little ways down there was a ledge I could aim for. With a steadying breath, I let go. I fell faster than I anticipated, but I was able to grasp the ledge, halting my fall. My shoulder jolted with the impact.

I let out a short groan before dropping again. I hit the roof hard, rolling several times to lessen the impact. The snow slipped down my shirt and pants. I spluttered as the snow turned to freezing cold water in a matter of seconds. I used the slick armor to glide to the edge of the roof. I peered over the side to see a window just below me.

With a hand on the gutter, I swung myself over and towards the window, using the momentum to force the panels of glass apart. Another heave got me through the window. I landed roughly, the slickness of my shoes causing me to stumble.

I lay on the floor for a few minutes, gasping for breath and trembling. Eventually, once my breath evened out, I massaged the worst of my muscle cramps and brushed the wet strings of my hair away from my neck. I was about to rub feeling back into my fingers when I saw three soldiers round the corner. Their guns were drawn and pointed at my chest.

Without thinking, I ran at them, yanking the the gun from my boot. I fired high. The echo was amplified by the deserted corridor. The bullet caught a light fixture above the men, the chain holding it up was torn to threads. It pitched down, knocking two to their knees.

I kicked at the remaining one. My boot caught his helmet and drove him into the wall. There was a definite crack as metal met stone. He went limp.

The other two were now ready to fight, their guns scattered on the floor. I stumbled over a crack. It gave me just enough time before they pounced.

I tucked into roll, switching my grip from the gun’s handle to its still-hot barrel. It burned, but I forced myself to grit through it. The pommel would add extra weight to my punches.

We met with a clash. Their thrashing elbows bashed against my stomach. A punch landed on my cheek. The momentum made my head spin. I raised a hand to my forehead, trying to settle the dizziness. Adrenaline spiked through my veins and snapped me back to the present again.

I punched hard, using the gun as a club. I bashed and kicked and punched until there was nothing left but groaning men around me.

When all the foes had fallen, I tossed the used pistol away. My palms burned and my wrist screamed from the undue exertion. I rubbed my reddened cheek tenderly. There was definitely going to be a bruise forming there.

I needed to think. Something was wrong with all of this. The twins letting me go. The three soldiers fell much too easily for trained HYDRA personnel. Or maybe I was as good as Dad trained me to be.

Though I doubted it.

He always called me too emotional and hesitant when we sparred. I preferred to let my frustration lead me. Rarely was I a calm fighter. Not that I wanted to be a fighter at all. Once he realized hand-to-hand combat was not my calling, that’s when we began focusing on my specialized training.

I shook my head. I needed to focus on the matter at hand. Strucker had instructed to twins to handle me if I did anything out of hand. Well, I definitely wasn’t cooperating now.

Strucker must have other plans for this exercise. Maybe to teach me a lesson. If I ran, Mom would be the one feeling the punishment, not me. The only way to protect the one so loved was to be nowhere near them.

And if Strucker had plans for me to become one of his, I would have to take him down with me. Because there was no way I was going without a fight.

I sighed and stepped over the toppled bodies. I reached under my armor and grabbed the gun from my holster. My finger immediately went to rest lightly on the trigger. Old habits certainly die hard. I realized my body had even fallen into a defensive stance, my knees bent, shoulders hunched.

I crept along the hallways, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. There were no footsteps or conversations now. Luckily, my footsteps were next to silent. That much of Dad’s teaching came back to me as I stalked along. Everything was deathly silent. The chill to pressed closer to me, my numb fingers and toes becoming number still. The adrenaline was wearing off and my whole body began to tremble from exhaustion.

I forced myself to press on, slowly edging my way down deserted corridors and stairwells. It wasn’t until I ended up on the bottom floor that I began to hear signs of human life. Distant murmurs gently echoed around corners.

The unmistakable slickness of Strucker’s voice cut through the frosty gloom. “-sure that was the damage?”

“Nothing still stands in DC, sir. The compound is leveled. Zola’s algorithm is torn apart. Not even Senator Stern can help us now.” The second man’s voice sounded young and a little odd, but I didn’t have the have time to reflect on it. I gripped the knife tighter and forced my breaths to settle.

“And the Winter Solider?”

I ducked my head around the corner to see the retreating back of Strucker and a taller man in a thick coat, both of them leaning over a clipboard of hurried notes. A guard was posted in a nearby doorway; but otherwise, they were alone in this deserted nook of the fortress.

“Disappeared into the shadows.” The younger scientist said. His gait was uneven, the left leg dragging every single step.

Strucker harrumphed disdainfully. “I have a feeling he will be one of the shadows that follow. There’s no telling what trouble he might cause us later. Get some of your techs on tracking him. I don’t want him appearing and falling into the hands of anyone but us. We need to reclaim him as soon as possible.”

The guard saluted as the two men passed, eventually following right after them. His rifle was held in a lofty position, just like the soldiers who invaded a little less than a day ago. I tucked my pistol into the holster and freed the pocket knife.

“And what about the others?”

As Strucker took in a breath to answer, I darted to a shadowed doorway and finessed the lock open with my knife. The room I entered was cold and damp, filled to the brim with filing cabinets. I didn’t dare close the door in case it made any odd creaks. I pressed my back against the wall, taking in a deep breath to steady my rapid pulse.

I glanced around the room, taking in the hyper-secure locks on the cabinets and the titles in a language I didn’t know. There’s wasn’t any exit points besides the door and, of course, another window.

I gave the smallest of sighs before tucking the knife in my sleeve again. Then something occurred to me. Why was Strucker in this part of the compound? It was completely deserted and useless.

Unless. . .

I snuck out of my hiding place and made my way to the doorway where the soldier had stood. There was no lock around over the doorknob, but a fingerprint scanner. This was definitely what they were here for. Why else would there be this security?

A glance at the top and hinges of the door told me that dismantling it would be impossible. The steel was hard sealed. It was well used, that was easy to tell. This would have to be opened using my specialized skill set.

I pried the panel off with the flat my knife. The tangle of wires was hectic at first. The greens, blues, and reds jumbling up to make a compete bird’s nest. But Dad’s training wasn’t all for nothing. I scanned them before plucking a green from the mess. With a jerk, I cut the wire, stripped it, and twisted the ends together. There was short hiss and the door swung open. I let out a short laugh in relief.

“I still got it,” I murmured, the smallest of grins darting across my face.

Hurriedly, I fixed everything and refit the panel on, glancing behind my shoulder every so often to make sure i was alone. I couldn’t help but glance at the security camera tucked within the nook of a corner. I needed to erase all footage as soon as I was at a console.

It didn’t look at all tampered with when I was finished. Mentally applauding myself, I slipped in the door and shut it softly behind me. As I gathered my wits, I tucked the knife back up my sleeve.

The room I entered was completely empty, the only objects the scattered papers across the floor and toppled filing cabinets. This room was a terrible front. They weren’t hiding their secret well if this was all they had to disguise it.

My forehead creased as I analytically worked through the situation. I began walking around the perimeter of the room, knocking a knuckle against the wall for every step I took. Most of the taps were a dull, muted sound. As I reached the other end, it rang metallically and for the width of a meter, it continued to be so.

A secret door. Of course HYDRA would have one of those. I pressed a palm to the center of the area. There was a click and the door slid away. A freezing blast of wind hit my face and my eyes watered. It led into a dark room. I waited a moment to let my eyes adjust.

“I thought it would take you at least a week to find this. Maybe two.”

I spun around to see Strucker and his scientist standing in the doorway, two guards flanking them. I cursed myself for not being more prepared. No one was watching my back anymore.

The younger man was even younger than I expected, close to eighteen or so. A horrible scar ran from the length of his temple all the way down to the collar of his shirt. It looked barely healed, no doubt recent. It stood out against the darkness of his skin. He met my scrutiny with his own. Cold and hard, he stared right back at me. My eyebrow raised a fraction.

My gaze flicked over from my assessment of him to focus on Strucker.

“But then again, you are the Angelova.” Strucker grinned at me, bringing his hands together in a slow clap. “Oh, well done, Miss Angelova. Very well done.”

The shaft slid shut, the burst of air behind me dying abruptly. My fingers twitched. Now I really wanted to see what was behind the door.

“From you, that almost sounds like a compliment,” I said.

“Oh, but it is. Very few could have taken down all the guards you did, only with two pistols, and without mortally wounding them.” He cocked his head. “I’m going to need the gun and knife on the floor.”

I hesitated. The two guards drew their weapons. I slowly unholstered the gun and knife and kicked them over to the men.

The scientist picked the two items up, examining them with analytical interest, as if they revealed just how I evaded capture so long. He narrowed his eyes. I didn’t understand why my gaze kept sliding over. He seemed to have as much ire for me as I did for him.

“Ms. Angelova, I believe you haven’t met Dr. Lance Esper yet.”

Esper gave me the barest nod. His eyes were unreadable, jaw clenching. The more I studied him, the easier it was to tell that he had many more boiling emotions under the surface. Radiant, hot rage was simmering beneath his calm countenance.

Strucker continued, “Congratulations on passing your first test. Now it’s time for why you are really here.”

\- -


	4. The Beginning of the Strategy

Why I was really here. The reason for my presence was just as ominous as that statement.

Merely training the twins wasn’t all he had in mind. Strucker wanted to exploit my talents and my past for all it was worth. Just from the brief exchange, it was easy to tell he badly wanted a past Sokovian Ops member to join HYDRA. His eye had practically gleamed from behind his monocle.

Our special expertise as infiltrators and eradicators carried a heavy weight in the international community. We were quick, quiet, and efficient. Because we had so little funding, we also had to become incredibly creative.

The entire march back to my cell, my brain analyzed our conversation from every angle. It was easy to see what he needed me for and how he was going to use my skills, but I couldn’t figure out the why.

Why me?

After Dad died, some of his fellow soldiers quit the team. They were fed up with the missions and the constant toll on their bodies and families. So, they attempted to blend back into normal life. That left them even more frustrated with the inability to do anything. They longed to get back in service, but only for something they believed in.

Those men would have been well-suited for what Strucker wanted. They were well-trained, experienced in the field, and had nothing more to lose.

It took several moments of mulling this over to realize I was almost describing myself. Sure, it had been a few years since I was an active asset, but the training had come back to me. I survived a few hours crawling around HYDRA’s base without being caught.

Besides, when I was truly in my element, what Dad had drilled me mercilessly in, it was incredibly hard to stop me. Nearly impossible, even. If my exploit in St. Catherine’s palace three years ago taught me anything, I could be as silent as a shadow if I needed to be.

A brief smile flicked across my face. That was one of the highlights of my life. I dressed in an elegant dress for half the night, took apart a government agency for the rest.

They shoved me back in my cell. I staggered and fell onto the cot, a short groan escaped as my bruised body jostled. The march back through the hallways had mostly been the two guards dragging me along. My body just couldn’t fight any longer. Adrenaline had sapped the energy from every single piece of me.

Folded neatly on the covers was a simple uniform, a pair of pants and a shirt with a white symbol emblazoned on the chest. Curious, I unfolded to reveal the Sokovian crest. I traced it lightly with a fingertip. My whole life had been centered around honoring this emblem, everything I did was for the great state of Sokovia.

It was the reason Dad trained me in the first place. He was a patriot to the end. When he died, he was one of the few fallen men to get a star engraved on the wall of city hall. Colonel Zemo had been the only other person to show up to the ceremony.

While tears streamed down my face and Colonel Zemo placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, I decided that I would never be living for the so-called glory of Sokovia again. Our nation was broken, completely and utterly corrupt within the government and out.

The sacrifices I made for this country meant nothing. Dad’s death meant nothing. In that way, I became my mother: cynical and focused on surviving each and every day.

This was just another way for Strucker to mock me.

I shrugged off my worn jacket. It was nearly in tatters after all the exertion I put it through, the elbows threadbare and hem torn. The sweater I was wearing underneath was no better. A giant run ran up the entire side, probably from when I was climbing gutters.

Stripping to my undershirt, I couldn’t help but glance down at the number and crest inked below my collarbone. Even upside down, I had it memorized: 34713. Thick and black, it had been incredibly painful for my twelve-year-old self to sit through, but like every Sokovian Special Operative before me, the tattoo was mandatory after your first ten missions.

My memory of that day was hazy. The only thing I really remembered was gripping my father’s hand while it was applied. I didn’t feel like a brave Special Operative of Sokovia that day. I felt like a twelve-year-old girl.

I brushed the slightly faded ink with the pad of my thumb before pulling on the new shirt and pants. They were both lightweight, built for durability and motion.

A draft pressed against my back. My teeth chattered and I slipped back in my jacket. I cradled my wrist to my chest. It throbbed mercilessly.

I glanced around the cell again, mildly surprised to see a sink and toilet that I had overlooked earlier. At least I didn’t have to ask for bathroom privileges. A small mercy in a nearly impossible situation.

The endless dripping had been replaced by silence. Sweet, beautiful silence. I could finally allow myself to think.

The cot squealed as I settled onto it. I curled into a tight ball. Overwhelming exhaustion sung its its siren call, trying its best for lull me to sleep. I longed to give in completely, to let go of the horrendous reality I found myself in. To escape temporarily into the landscape of my dreams.

The fantasies I divulged in seemed so silly now, my romantic imagination all but overtaken by the uncompromising operative at my core. No longer was Pietro a wandering knight, Wanda a peerless princess.

We were soldiers. And soldiers don’t exist without a war.

\- -

I was woken roughly, a soldier dragging me up from my curled position to standing. I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep.

My body ached from yesterday’s exertion. Maybe ached was an understatement. Each muscle cried in protest for every movement I made. They yanked and strained and screamed. My decision to not work out at all for the last few years had been a horribly misjudged one. My wrist crunched painfully as I moved it a little too swiftly.

Grimacing, I attempted to stretch, but the man would not have it.

He settled a vice-grip on my upper arm and heaved me out the door. I cried out, but the man ignored me. “It’s time to begin your training, Angelova.” His was voice gruff and tired.

I passed Wanda and Pietro in their own separate cells. They blinked at me as I passed, jaws slackened. They were no doubt they expected me to be long gone.

Feeling a bit daring after my feats the previous day, I sent them a wink. A startled grin broke across Pietro’s face and he rumpled his already-disheveled hair.

With a jerk, I was forced to continue walking. We marched along the corridors, eventually joined by other uniformed soldiers. In a singular line, we snaked out of the building to a wide open space. The sun had not yet made its appearance over the horizon, everything was cast in the hazy gloom of dawn. Half-melted snow had been sloughed up by boots of men running in a large oval.

My captor joined the line, me right beside him. We jogged in endless circle after circle. It was slow plodding at first. I was so exhausted I could barely lift my boots off the ground.

Eventually, my stiff muscles warmed. They became elastic again and the aches receded. With every breath, I forced frozen air into my lungs and out again. The crispness of it stripped my throat raw.

No matter how out of shape I was, I knew enough to keep going. Strucker wasn’t going to let me slack off after my sneaking around yesterday. Even though I knew that analytically, my body hated me for every step I took.

I wasn’t the only one having troubles. My baby sitter soldier was huffing and puffing. His face and neck were covered in sweat.

“You know, it would be easier for you if you let me go,” I said. His grip tightened. “Or not.”

The sun slowly climbed into the sky, sullen gray replaced with peach and yellow. One of the most beautiful days in recent memory and I was at a HYDRA camp. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the irony of it.

Many of the soldiers were wearing dappled white and grey uniforms, perfect for blending into the Sokovian landscape. Every single one was wearing the HYDRA symbol except for me. Even under my jacket, the Sokovian crest was evident, casting me even more as an outsider.

After an hour, we settled into rows. My soldier heaved me into the middle of one, standing a pace or two beside me.

I placed hands on my hips and leaned over, sucking in breath. It was all I could do to not fall over completely. My muscles felt weaker than jelly.

My braids fell to either side of my face, loose and disheveled. I hadn’t redone them since my arrival. Straightening, I raked out the tresses with my fingers before pulling my hair up in a messy bun.

A commander stood at the front of the rows and lead us through blistering calisthenics. His sharp voice called our every step. 1-2-3, 1-2-3. My body rebelled against the obnoxious rhythm, crying out with every tug against strained muscles. I gritted my teeth and buckled down.

If Dad’s training taught me anything, when it hurts, it’s what’s best for you.

My growling stomach added to my faintness. I longed to topple out of the jumping jacks and crumple on the ground. As if the commander heard my internal monologue, everyone stopped their exercises to file back into the fortress.

My babysitter clamped his hand again on my arm and dragged me along.

I found it odd that none of the soldiers talked to each other. They simply traded curt nods. No HYDRA salutes, no small talk. I narrowed my eyes and took in the line of men. There was no way I could take them all.

I was rugged along harshly again. My knees were weak as I followed him. Admittedly, I didn’t put up much of a fight. I wanted food. We marched all the way back to my cell in perfect tandem, even though we panted and groaned the entire way. Saying my muscles ached was a serious understatement.

Though Pietro and Wanda’s cells were empty, I gratefully collapsed in mind. A bowl of something somewhat edible-looking was placed on the floor. Gingerly, I picked it up and smelled it. There was a definite odor of peanut and eggs.

I briefly considered it might be something to poison me, a quick way to end my life. But my stomach won over any critical thinking I might have possessed. They didn’t give me a spoon this time. My one chance of escape was over and done now; they weren’t taking any chances.

I brought the bowl to my lips and slurped it down. Small, unexpected chunks slid down my throat and I nearly gagged. It tasted inedible, like cottage cheese with a sizable helping of vinegar and a pinch of sauerkraut. All in all, a disgusting combination. I forced myself to swallow the last of it. If possible, the aftertaste was worse than when it was going down.

I stumbled over the sink on trembling legs and lapped up the weak stream of water. The water tasted metallic. I spit out the last mouthful. How I wished for a mint.

“I see you’ve had your breakfast.”

I whirled around to see Esper, a clipboard in hand. His voice startled me, a modulated sound that was unexpected now that I was paying attention to it. There was an usual twang to it, something I couldn’t pinpoint earlier.

“You’re American,” I said.

My forehead creased as a few thoughts clicked together in my brain. Recent scar, recent fight in America over a HYDRA base. Theoretically, if he got out of the US, he could have made it here.

He nodded. I switched to English. “You were stationed at HYDRA’s base in Washington D.C., weren’t you? That’s how you were injured.” I sat crossed-legged on the floor, my knees too tired to hold me up.

His eyes widened and the clipboard almost slipped from his hands. “How did you figure that out?” he replied, slipping back to his native tongue.

I glanced at the clipboard and back at him, a clear sign of you can’t be that dumb.

“And for that matter, how do you even speak English?”

“Sokovia is on the way to everywhere,” I replied. “You pick up on things. It was required in school, as well as Russian and French.”

Esper cleared his throat, looking down at the writing scattered across paper. Though upside down and in English, it was easy to see my whole health history laid out. The date when I had the flu was highlighted boldly. Other important dates were my most recent health exams and the one day I broke three ribs and my wrist.

“Huh,” I said, tilting my head and narrowing my eyes to get a better view.

He snapped it up to his chest and sent me a scowl that could melt a Sokovian winter. “I’m here to run tests on you.”

“. . . tests?”

“Stick our your arm.”

I scowled. “No, thank you. I didn’t agree to any testing.”

“Frankly, Angelova, I don’t take orders from you. Hold out your arm. Now.” He sighed when I didn’t move. “I can just as well do it when you’re unconscious. Maybe even better, so remember that.”

The temporary surprise was replaced by burning hatred. Revenge was clearly in the forefront of his mind. I stared into his eyes and knew, without a doubt, he wouldn’t hesitate to do his job.

I rolled up my sleeve and muttered under my breath, “you Americans have no sense of subtlety.”

He knelt and reached for my elbow, but he paused. His eyes were riveted to my inflamed wrist. Esper examined my injured wrist, pressing against bones and tendons. I winced but he didn’t seem to notice. His forehead creased as he moved on to the other injuries I gathered the previous day, my skin as black and blue as a postmark.

Finally, his examination done, he took out some tape and began wrapping my wrist. It throbbed horribly, but the support instantly eased the strain. I gratefully flexed my fingers. It was odd, having someone do something for you and not thanking them for it. Whatever his motivations were for helping my wrist, I was positive kindness wasn’t one of them.

He took out another length of tape and a syringe. With the deftness of an expert, he taped off my arm and began sampling blood from my veins.

I tried not to look at the scarlet being squeezed out of my arm. The sight of blood always made my stomach roll. I squeezed my eyes shut and tucked my face to my shoulder. A few silent moments passed as he did his work. I was grateful he didn’t attempt any conversation. I’d heard that Americans were overly friendly sometimes.

Blood sampled, he removed the needle and applied a bandage across the little red dot in the crook of my elbow, one that seemed too small for everything that had just came out of me.

“Is that all you needed?” I asked, my voice fainter than I intended.

“For now.” He tucked the samples into a small box. And he left without a farewell, his uneven gait making his lab coat swish dramatically.

The cell door thudded shut and the lock bolt clicked into place. I blinked at the suddenness of it. Unusual as he was, he still acted like a teenager. HYDRA must be desperate if this was one of their recruits.

I prodded the spot. It was a clean insert and I doubted it would bruise, yet I still wanted to have some physical marker of it anyway. I needed something to remind me that I was going to fight. No matter how painful the conflict was.

I was going to use everything Dad taught me to bring HYDRA down. From the inside out, I would destroy them. Hopefully, in a clever enough way to get the twins out with me. That is, if they would even wish to leave.

After all, they volunteered. They signed up to be here; I didn’t. But from what I gathered, they were only here to be able to eventually get revenge on Stark. Not because they wanted to join HYDRA.

My teeth gnawed into my bottom lip. The more I analyzed the situation, the clearer it was that the twins were on my side. Why else would Wanda alert me to the soldier behind me? And I bet the bullet that barely missed me was her work as well.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and cradled my chin.

If I was able to get away from my babysitter and to a console, I could pull up the schematics of the fortress. From there, I could find exits and ways back to Novi Grad. I could locate their servers and what was located where.

The file room, for instance. What was in there? That weird language could have something to do with Strucker’s research. If I could decode it, maybe I could get this information to the Avengers. Or maybe even Colonel Zemo. He had wanted to bust this fortress apart ever since it was built.

But first, I had to survive whatever ‘tests’ Esper was running on me. Was I about to be enhanced like the twins?

I blinked when I realized excitement spiked my heart rate at the thought of me getting abilities. Did I actually want to become one of them?

Why?

I fingered the collar of my jacket. The rough edges chafed against my fingertips. I needed to feel something - anything to get out of my spiraling thoughts. Focusing on problems out of my control would not get me anywhere.

I had to direct my thoughts towards figuring out a way of fighting back. Steeling myself to destroy HYDRA from the inside out was a good goal, but I actually had to figure out a way to do that.

Sokovian Special Operative wasn’t just a title bestowed to someone who could shoot a gun. We could do much more than sneak around.

I squeezed my eyes shut, running through the events of yesterday. Each step I took, I went over it again in my mind. Smells, sights, sounds - everything. I didn’t explore enough to understand the full layout of the building, but I understood where the most vulnerable parts were hidden and how to get to them.

If I could get to another window - hopefully with some bracers or gloves or something - I could scale most of the roof to the other side and make my way through the hallways on the opposite side of the base.

But how to accomplish that?

My gaze snagged on the opposite wall. The barest seed of an idea began to form. I needed more information to grow it properly, sure, but it was better than nothing.

The biggest problem? I would need someone to watch my back. And there wasn’t a ton of options there. Wanda and Pietro might be willing, but they were unpredictable enough as it is. The less they knew about my plans, the better. But who else?

One name floated to the surface and I immediately groaned. Of all people and of all times, was now really the right time to call in that hard-earned favor?

It’d been hard enough having her ask me for help. I wasn’t exactly her best friend or anything. But her returning the favor? Near torture for the both of us.

My gaze fell to the rapidly spreading bruise in the crook of my elbow. I didn’t know how much time I might have. Rather sooner than later, right?

She was my absolute last resort. Nicknamed the Mist in international communities, she was an Iranian operative who specialized in appearing in places she wasn’t supposed to be. She was silent. She never left a trace of herself behind. Only the empty safes and replaced security codes indicated her presence.

We had an understanding, the two of us. It was mostly comprised of staying out of the other’s way. We had a nasty habit of running into each other and ruining the objects of the other’s missions. My greatest triumph in the field was forcing her to back off a code we were both supposed to steal from an American executive.

Through subterfuge, I had gotten to him first and convinced a local officer to notice her somewhat conspicuous countenance. She had narrowed her eyes and disappeared. I successfully completed the mission, but I knew that was not the last I would see of her. I had a sinking feeling we would be seeing much of each other.

Two weeks later, she asked me for help with her own directive. I barely escaped with my life.

Trusting her was a last-ditch effort, no doubt. I groaned and buried my head in my hands. I didn’t have a choice. I badly needed her help if this was going to work.

The Mist was never going to let me live this down.

\- -


	5. The Seething of the Shadows

“Knock knock.” Startled, my head snapped up to see Pietro leaning against the wall. He was smirking down at me. “I used to never be able to sneak up on you, remember? I like the surprise on your face.”

How had been able to sneak up on me? The door did not open quietly. Were my thoughts truly loud enough that they drowned out everything but themselves?

I rolled my eyes. Those would have to be worries for another time. He padded over, holding out his hand to me. I gazed at it for a hesitant second before I grasped his forearm and he heaved me up. The faintest scent of butterscotch accompanied him.

“C’mon, lisichka. Let’s have some fun.”

The mischievousness in his eyes was undeniable. I felt some of familiar warmth settle back in the pit of my stomach. This was the Pietro from my childhood. This was my friend.

I allowed him to pull me along the hallways and corridors. Somewhere along the way, our fingers interlaced tightly. So tightly, as if to make up for the distance that had occurred between us over our years apart.

We were silent the entire trek to whatever our destination was. For once, it was enough to simply be together. I knew his secrets, and now he knew some of mine. Once again, we were on even footing. The loyalty of our bond still remained.

Pietro led me to an iron-clad door. He shot me a wink before pulling on the handle.

It swung open to reveal Wanda pacing in a large room, her fingers interwoven nervously. There were crimson wisps twisting and arcing around them. Her hair was mussed and flew in scattered wisps around her face.

Her head jerked up when we came in and she flew at me, her arms wrapping around my neck. Pietro dropped my hand so I could return the embrace. I buried my face in her shoulder. A sob rocked through her body and soon we were both crying.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

I was surprised to feel no ire towards her. Whatever remaining hurt and anger I had fell away. The only way to get through this was together.

I pulled away. “We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

“Okay.”

A weak smile grew on each of our faces. I brushed the tears from face and sniffled. It had been so long since I could let my guard down around someone and it was so liberating, but I had to get myself under control again. We were in a HYDRA base, after all.

Frowning, I glanced between the twins. “Why are we allowed alone? They know what I can do. And now, so do you.”

“You’re supposed to teach us,” Pietro shrugged. “We argued to have you alone for a couple hours each day while you train us. Since we’re such valuable assets, we have some negotiating power.”

“Is that how you got the eyeshadow?” I glanced at Wanda and raised an eyebrow.

“Among other things,” she mumbled, picking at a nail.

Pietro said, “mainly butterscotch for me.”

HYDRA giving makeup and candies to teenagers was almost the most surprising thing I learned the last few days. I certainly wasn’t expecting it from an evil Nazi rogue science division.

Pietro cracked his knuckles. “So, what are you going to teach us?”

“What do you want to learn?”

“To fight. We both do.”

I frowned and my mind immediately began analyzing their talents to see how best to train them.

“Pietro, you’re fast, but you need to know basic hand-to-hand combat if it’s going to serve you well. Wanda, getting in the mind of your enemies is something you can really work on.”

“How?”

“Can you see the memories you summon?”

“Yes.” Her forehead creased in concentration. “Specific memories are connected to certain emotions, like a string. I choose an emotion close to the surface and drag along whatever memory comes with it. The more you feel the emotion, the easier it is to bring a memory to your mind.

“When Strucker wanted me to knock you out, I didn’t want you to be in pain so I chose a happy memory your subconscious was recently thinking of.”

I tapped by bottom lip. “What if, instead of pulling on the string to find memories, you find at what’s at the bottom.”

“Like their greatest fear? Or their worst memory?”

“Exactly.”

A slow grin spread across her face, something sinister in the expression. I had a sinking feeling I given her an idea I would live to regret. Her eyes turned red and she disappeared into her own world.

I turned to Pietro. “Do you know how to punch?”

A blindly fast fist flew towards me and halted a centimeter from my face. I blinked at his callused knuckles. No matter how fast I might of reacted, there was no way I could have dodged that hit.

“I usually punch in the stomach or shoulder,” he said, his tone as casual as if we were discussing the weather. “If I get them off balance and knock the air out of them, they usually don’t get back up again.”

I swept a kick around his leg and hooked his ankle before yanking it up. He stumbled forward and his palms hit the ground with a smack. He flipped himself over and glared at me.

“You didn’t see that coming?“ I grinned and winked at him. He rolled his eyes, but the smallest of smiles played at the edge of his lips.

“That’s what happens when you get cocky,” I said. “Speed will do you well, but only if you know how to compensate for it.”

“What?”

“If you can’t fight without speed, you can’t fight with it.”

I lowered my uninjured hand towards him. He scowled at it before allowing me to heft him up.

“Let’s run through moves, but slowly this time.”

We squared up against each other, our shoulders straightening and fists raised by our jaws. His eyes were steel and fully concentrated on mine. We started moving in a slow circle around each other.

“It can be about technique and precision, but when you’re in the middle of fighting, it’s about survival. You need to be resourceful and take advantages where you can. Your opponent lets down their guard for an instant, you take it.”

I feigned to the left, swinging towards his jaw. He dodged it left and socked me in the ribs. Though the jab was light, the bruises still blistered underneath his touch. I let out a clipped groan.

His face softened ever so slightly, but his jaw stayed firm.

“Good,” I said. “There are no mercies in a fight.”

“But what if your opponent is a good one? Once you’ve knocked them down, do you keep kicking?”

He swung at me, which I deflected in a way that made him lose balance. He skipped a step before swinging again with tighter form.

“Better,” I commented, then considered his question. “A good fighter knows how to throw a punch.”

I blocked his attempt at an uppercut. I punched him, hard, in the shoulder, giving me enough of an opening to knee him in the stomach. With a groan, he fell to his knees. He gasped for breath and held up a hand.

“But a good man knows when to stop.” I dropped my stance and massaged my wrist through the brace. “Up, kotyonek. We need to work on your landings.”

Though he gave a weak smile at the nickname, he didn’t have enough breath to make a quick comeback.

“Agreed,” Wanda said, helping her brother to his feet. Her eyes were no longer beaming red. “That was quite a glorious fall.”

“Shut up,” he wheezed.

Clearly he wasn’t moving anytime soon, so I turned to Wanda. “What do you work out?”

“Would you like me to show you?”

Though I wasn’t particularly excited to have her in my mind again, I gave a hesitant nod. Her fingers glowed red and she sent a crimson ball spiraling towards me.

\- -

Everything went black for a split second, then I was in my apartment again. It was so disconcerting that I could barely move.

A tea kettle whistled on the stove and the scent of bread hung heavy in the air. Dishes were piled in the sink, and a discarded newspaper sat on the small kitchen table, a pencil resting by a half-finished crossword. The room itself was cast in an uneasy shade of green.

I spun around slowly. It was home, so of course it felt familiar, but this vision seemed closely related to my growing sense of dread.

There was a sharp knock at the door and I jumped. I heard a small sigh behind me.

“Melina, please get that, love.”

I turned to see Mom embroidering in her chair, forehead creased as she brought the needle through another stitch. Her hair was piled up on her head and the bags under her eyes looked nearly nonexistent compared to what I was used to.

It felt as if everything was slightly ahead of me, that I could barely react - or breathe, for that matter. I felt sluggish as I watched her swift, deft movements.

Her sharp eyes glanced up and looked deep into mine. “Melina, the door.”

“Me?”

“Of course you. Who else would I be talking to?” there was a slight laugh in her voice, something I hadn’t heard since. . .

“Oh no,” I whispered. “No, I’m not going to open it. I can’t. Not again.”

The door swung open of its own will to reveal Helmut Zemo. His thick stubble barely hiding the blackening and swelling of his jaw from a recent fight. Our gazes locked and his dark eyes bore into mine with a heaviness that made my heart skip beats. What he held in his hands was hidden by thick gloves.

“Hello Agent,” he said, his voice rasping.

Mom’s shoes tapped the floor as she stood up. “Agent? Melina, what is this?”

He didn’t say a word; instead, he held out a bronze star to me. I took it with shaking fingers, cradling the heavy metal in my palm. It fit into the hollow of my hand, it was barely big enough to read Dad’s name stamped in the side.

My knees gave out and the star thudded to the ground. I was dimly aware of my Mom asking what was going on, her queries becoming more and more frantic. Colonel Zemo answered the best he could, saying how he died was confidential and we wouldn’t be able to bury him. There would be a service honoring him the day after tomorrow and we could hang this star in city hall.

But I couldn’t listen, I had already heard all of it before.

All I could focus on was my finger rubbing the edge of the star. I traced his name with my nail. The metal began to burn and I quickly pulled away. Yet, the burn continued to spread along my hand and up my arm.

I felt a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Zemo had crouched down and lifted the star towards me.

“Sometimes,” he said, his voice low and soothing, “memories burn much worse than the actual event. Don’t they, little fox?”

The star fell into my lap and instantly, my whole body was on fire. I cried out and reached out to hold his hand, to hold something to stop the all-consuming pain. But I caught onto nothing.

Left in his place was the barest ghost of my father. He was only an outline, really. His eyes were bright as he stared at the star in my lap before looking at my pain-wracked face.

“Mel, I’m so sorry for getting you into this. But I didn’t have a choice.” His sweet-as-caramel voice brought tears to my eyes, but I wouldn’t shed them.

“Neither did I,” I replied, thinking of the ink branded on my skin. “Neither did I.”

\- -

At that admission, the burning fell away and I found myself curled in a tight ball on the floor. Back in reality again. Tears brimmed at the edges of my vision, but I refused to shed them.

Pietro knelt in front of me. He looked deeply concerned, brushing stray hairs from my face. “Are you okay, lisichka?”

A laughed gurgled in the back of my throat. “Do I look okay?”

He helped me sit up, leaning me against the nearest wall. Wanda’s eyes were bright as she stared at me. No words needed to have been said between us, I understood perfectly the regret and shame written across her face.

That was the expression I had often seen myself after a mission.

“Which string did you pull on?” I asked.

“The one that hurts you the most.”

“Why that one?”

She gave an apologetic shrug. “You were the first time I tried it out on someone. I didn’t know how to figure out one string from another so I picked the strongest one I could find.”

I bit my lip and drew my knees up to my chest. Once again, I found myself cradling my tender head and struggling to regulate my breathing.

“Melina?” Wanda asked hesitantly.

“I just need a minute.”

I counted down from sixty, focusing on inhaling and exhaling using the 4-7-8 method I was taught in training. Once I had calmed myself down enough, I composed my features and looked up at the twins, who were having a silent, worried conversation above me.

“Okay,” I said. Perhaps more to myself than them. I stood and tucked my hands in my pockets.“What will be done with the rest of my time? I can’t train you all day.”

The twins shared a meaningful look. I was always amazed the conversations they exchanged without saying a word. Even before their enhancements, it was second nature for them. It got annoying when we were kids, but now it was simply endearing to see that the present was’t so much different from the past.

“You’re to have physical training from dawn to midmorning,” Wanda said, ticking off her fingers. “A short respite for breakfast, train us until noon, your own personalized training courtesy Strucker, dinner, and sleep.”

I winced. My body already hated me, but it sounded like hatred would turn to pure loathing by the end of every day. And I didn’t even want to think about one on one time with Strucker. It would take all my willpower not to punch the monocle from his face.

“How did you learn all that stuff?” Pietro asked. “The shooting, the hiding, and the breaking and entering?”

I frowned thoughtfully. “Remember when we were kids and my dad and I would go on special trips every couple of weeks?”

“Yeah. They usually lasted a few days. You’d come home exhausted but you always seemed so pleased with yourself.”

Had I? I usually felt glad that the mission was over. I never realized I was pleased. “On those trips, I’d be running missions for Sokovia. I was small and people usually overlooked me, so I was a good infiltrator.”

“And what does an infiltrator do, exactly?” Wanda asked.

“Now that would take all the surprise out of it. Let’s just say that breaking and entering and sharp shooting aren’t my only skills.”

“You’re not just a baker’s daughter, are you?”

“No,” I said. Wistful thoughts spun at the question. If I was just a baker’s daughter, I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. I’d often wondered what it would be like to be normal. “I’m not.”

Had Dad not discovered my talents and Mom not let him train me, my life would have looked a whole lot differently. I could have grown up a normal kid, only focusing on the games I played with Pietro and Wanda; I could have simply been a school girl just hoping to get asked out and somehow survive precalculus.

“Is what I had for breakfast going to be what I had for dinner?” I said, eager to change the track of my thoughts.

Pietro’s nose wrinkled. “Worse. They have to make up for all the calories we burn during the day. It usually involves serums that I don’t like to know about.” He mimed a gag.

Just thinking about eating that awful substance again made me shudder. And knowing I would have to eat it for the foreseeable future was not something I was looking forward to. “No wonder you stole those rolls.”

A dreamy look passed over Pietro’s face. “And I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“No doubt you could with your kind of speed. How fast do you run, anyways?”

He shrugged. “Never actually measured it. I think I’m past the speed of a bullet, though.”

I bit my lip, considering. Fast for short periods of time was great, but could he keep it up? What happens if his stamina gave up at the wrong time? Would a bullet be able to pierce him then? Or will his speed remain at a constant level, even when he was tired?

“I remember that look,” Wanda said, breaking into my thoughts. I snapped out of my contemplative focus. Though her eyeshadow was as black as midnight, there was still a little joy twinkling in her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re in full imaginative mode.”

“Practical imagination, but yes.” I waved the topic away. The last thing I wanted to think about was Pietro being shot. “Anyways. . .” I trailed off when I finally took in the room.

It was ginormous and it seemed to have once been an elegant ballroom. The marble floors were tarnished, chandeliers dusty and cobweb-ridden. Windows were located at the very top, weak light filtered in through heavily curtained slats. The wallpaper-covered walls were torn up by scattered bullets and gouges. It smelled like gunpowder and sweat.

“What do they use this room for?”

“Training,” Wanda said. “You’re going to see a lot of it. We certainly have.”

I bit my lip. The last place I wanted to be was here. Yet, somehow, this room felt like home. Like an elegant ball was just about to occur, one with sparkling dresses and glittering tiaras. I could dance my heart away here.

All light suddenly died, casting entire room in pitch black. My stomach twisted painfully and it didn’t take much guessing to know that something ominous was going to happen.

So much for dancing the night away.

A mechanized voice crackled across the vastness of the room. “Welcome to your second test, Miss Angelova. No weapons to help you this time. Use your head. Teach the twins well.”

I blinked, too overwhelmed to fully comprehend what it had said. My brain had reached its capacity of startling news.

Wanda’s hands glowed bright red, the hue gleaming in her eyes like matching flames. Pietro’s back pressed against mine, our fingers found each other and interlaced.

“Whatever happens next,” he whispered. “you stay close. You aren’t fighting simple soldiers anymore.”

Wanda gathered red around her and thrust her arms out. Crimson burst along every corner of the room, running up columns and gathering into a pulsing ball. The darkness fleed from the strength of her ability.

I was in awe as I watched her. How could my childhood friend be so powerful now?

I jerked in surprise when the shadows themselves moved of their own will. They came bearing down at us. Like a tidal wave, they gathered back and gained strength before bearing down on us with a force that made the walls tremble.

I unconsciously tensed up. Pietro squeezed my hand. “Steady there. This is where I let Wanda do her thing.”

Her thing?

I found out what he meant a moment later.

She arched her fingers and the red orb came hurtling down. It spread into the shape of a concave disk around us, like small a dome for protection. There was a spilt second of silence. A long, tense moment.

It passed quickly and the shadows slammed against the barrier. Wanda let out a whimper. Pietro took a half step towards her.

“No, I got this,” she said through gritted teeth.

With a flourish, she brought her hands above her head and sent the dome hurtling towards the ceiling. The shadows and red slammed against the walls. Everything trembled.

“They’re fighting back more than they usually do.”

I wasn’t sure which if the twins commented, I was too focused on the writhing darkness gathering strength in the corners. Pulsating and strong, it pushed against Wanda’s will. I could almost feel the force of its breath down my neck.

“It’s going to break through,” I murmured.

Wanda’s red eyes shifted to mine. “It always does. No matter how hard I try.”

I remembered the mechanized voice’s direction: teach the twins well. I had to step up and do something.

“Wanda,” I called sharply. “Bring your force field back. Have it be close and concentrated around us. You’ll conserve more energy.”

Gasping, she nodded and did what I said. The force-field rapidly shrunk to a concentrated bubble just around us. Her fingers were spread wide and contorted.

Pietro was practically strangling my hand now, our gazes were locked on Wanda’s tortured face. Her jaw was clenched and the crimson in her eyes doubled in strength.

“Good. Keep that up for as long as possible.” I turned to Pietro. “When you run in the shadows, can they hurt you?”

He gave a single, hesitant nod.

“Even at top speed?”

“Especially then,” he said. His gaze was entrapped by the pulsing darkness a meter from our heads. “It’s like they pierce and press my lungs so I can’t breathe, no matter how hard or fast I run to escape them.”

“You said you’ve gone through this before. What happens when they get through Wanda’s barrier?”

“We usually end up unconscious. It’s not pleasant.”

Wanda let out a cry and the shield suddenly shrunk, stopping a hair before my nose. I took a step back, my back bumping into Pietro’s. Wanda pressed against our arms. Her curled fingers were losing their redness.

I shifted my gaze to the seething darkness just beyond. Something about it intrigued me, now that I could see it up close. The pulsating being that it was almost seemed to soothe me. I blinked.

“You are both enhanced and it hurt you,” I said. The words tumbled out of my mouth in a hurried rush. “Maybe they won’t hurt me. Wanda, can you let me out?”

“Melina—“

“Do you have any other ideas?”

She was trembling now. Her jaw was tight and clanking together. There was no way she could last much longer.

Pietro gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. Cold enveloped my hand. I curled my fingers together and attempted to steady my breathing.

The field dropped away and I hurriedly stepped out. I could feel the rush of energy replace itself just under my fingertips. My heart thudded in my chest, my only reminder that I was alive and not trapped in a coffin underground.

Darkness enveloped me. I couldn’t see the twins or the shield anymore, just the endless night around me. I inched to the left, but there was no difference in my view. A tendril glanced across my cheek. The impact was as weighty as a punch and I fell backwards, a cry escaped and I fell to my knees as another hit my stomach, between my shoulder blades, and every vulnerable part of my body.

Hissing brushed by my eardrums, quickly escalating to a high-pitched wail. I clapped hands over my ears, but it was too loud.

It screamed at me, its words indiscernible and tortured. Soon, it was all I could hear, all I could focus on. It echoed from one end of my mind to the other. Every nerve and synapse were completely overwhelmed.

I opened my mouth to cry out, to beg it to stop.

It ended as abruptly as if started.

I froze in my hunched position for several moment before slowly easing from my crouch.

The ballroom around me was empty. No twins or shadows. The dimly lit windows cast everything in a frightful gloom. Though my ears were still whining, I could hear the faintest whistle of the wind winding through the chandeliers.

I turned in a slow circle on my heel.

“Pietro?” I called. “Wanda?”

At my words, the rafters shook and something like ash drifted from the ceiling. It fell on my hair and filled my nose with the scent of embers. When I reached up to brush it off, it felt warm, as if it had floated away from a nearby camp fire.

It was so overwhelming, I couldn’t breathe. I coughed into my elbow, trying to be as quiet as I could.

That slight sound sent a shockwave of rippling into the walls and a cascade of soot billowed down and around me. I raised a hand to cover mouth before it enveloped me.

As if the entire room had been coated in it, the trembling caused the darkness to wash away to reveal a glamorous ballroom, the glitz and glamor restored by whatever had just happened. The bullet holes and gashes were replaced by smooth wallpaper and delicate paintings. The ash was completely swept away to reveal pristine marble floors. It smelled of expensive perfume and melted candles. To say the least, this was much different than the hall I had entered.

My mouth fell open and I clanked it shut.

“Wanda, I hope you’re the one doing this. Because, if not. . . ” I trailed off when I locked eyes with one of the portraits.

It was me.

I was dressed in a spectacular periwinkle gown, adorned with a twinkling choker and tiara, my hair done up in elegant curls. Though my expression was thoughtful, my eyes were bright with mischief. My hands cupped a crystal globe. I wasn’t beautiful, I was stunning.

I stepped a half step closer, my eyes narrowing. This was how I looked in my daydreams. I looked like a princess.

I hurried to the next painting. There was Pietro brandishing a sword and grinning as if to say don’t I look great in this suit of armor? The next, Wanda played the harpsichord. Her eyes were half closed and she looked peaceful, for once.

In the final one, Dad stood with Mom beaming proudly back at me. My heart winced. It had been years since I’d seen his face - Mom had gotten rid of every picture once he died.

Instead of mourning him like I did, she completely shut her grief down. She simply tried to get through each day. Cynicism replaced her once unending joy. She warned him about the missions, she tried to make him understand. Once she knew I was involved in special ops, she never forgave me.

In the portrait, they looked so happy and in love, just like they used to be when I was younger. I could see myself in both of them, my Dad’s eyes, my Mom’s smile.

“I miss you,” I whispered. “I miss you both.”

Something alerted me to a prescience just behind me and I whirled around, backing up until my fingertips brushed the portrait’s frame. Nothing and no one was there.

But yet, I still felt something. It was unseen, but it was there. I curled my fingers around the bottom of the wood.

A whisper unfurled in a dark recess of my mind, slowly amplifying until it was a clear thought resonating in my brain. Good, little shadow fox, Very good.

I tilted my head. Shadow fox? Is that a nickname I picked up somewhere that I was unaware of?

Ash sprinkled from my hair and towards the floor. I watched its drifting path with wide eyes. The instant it touched the pristine marble, everything turned black. My whole vision swam in shadows and darkness. I lost my footing as I was suddenly hurtling through time and space.

\- -


	6. The Returning of the Memories

A jolt ran through my bones and gravity regained its hold on my body again.

My eyelids flew open and I gasped for breath. I stared at a ceiling, a shattered chandelier swayed in a nonexistent breeze, where a wisp of a shadow mirrored its movements. A hand was placed over my shoulder to keep me close to the ground.

I glanced over to see a balding man in a lab coat and further down my arm was Esper taking another blood sample. I groaned and turned my head away, squeezing my eyes shut and scrunching my lips together to keep the nausea from rising.

“She’s conscious again,” said the man in the lab coat.

Heavy footsteps neared and stopped right by my head. “How is she?” Strucker asked.

“For going through the shadows, she’s surprisingly intact. She’s going to be shaky for awhile, but her brainwaves and oxygen levels are stable.”

“Then why is she making that face?”

“. . . I don’t think she likes the sight of blood,” Esper said, the barest hint of amusement in his tone. “She did this earlier.”

A sarcastic remark dried on my tongue as a needle was inserted just below my jaw, in a tender spot on my neck. Whatever was pumped into me was as frozen as snow. I could feel the dispersal of the medicine slowly crawl through my veins, turning everything it touched to solid ice.

It crawled through my veins, crystallizing and solidifying until my very fingertips were a solidified blue. I couldn’t lift or feel any part of me. I tried to struggle away or to scream, but my lungs had also hardened. I couldn’t even gasp for breath.

But, somehow, my ears still comprehended what was going on around me.

“Okay,” Esper said. “She’s unconscious now and will be for a few hours.”

“Good. I want reports on how she is doing for the next twelve hours, every thirty minutes, and every other hour after that. She doesn’t leave her cell until regular training in a few days. Her schedule stays the same, but no more enhanced lessons with the twins.”

“Very well.”

“And Esper?”

“Yes?”

“How are the twins faring?”

Esper cleared his throat. “Not well. They clearly still care for Angelova and seeing her unconscious upset them. Their childhood friendship seemingly still remains. If we wish to have them learn from her, we need to stop things from happening in the future.”

“Or we toughen her up the way we did the twins.”

If I could have swallowed from nervousness, I would have.

“You can’t mean through—“

Strucker snapped. “See that the serum is updated for her genetics. We’ve worked too hard to secure a special operative and we are not going to lose her now. Do it, Esper, or—”

“Understood,” Esper stiffly said. “I’ll take care of it.”

My bones were brittle as I was lifted onto a stretcher and carried away. Every heave and sway caused me to break into smaller and smaller pieces, all held together by the framework of my skin. I longed to fight, to scream, to do anything besides simply lay there. The only thing I could see was the shifting darkness behind my eyelids.

I must have been brought back to my cell because I was gently lifted onto a cot. My heavy boots reverberated against the railing. A minute later, the door thudded shut and I was left alone. Or so I thought.

A blazing hot finger lifted an eyelid and suddenly I was looking at the face of Lance Esper. I studied him for any indication of what was going to happen next. He hummed and closed my eye again. Another needle inserted itself where the last one had.

I wanted to wince, but warmth spread faster than the ice and soon every part of me was thawed. Blood rushed through my veins like a swollen river. I gasped and bolted upwards, startling Esper from his bent position above me. His eyes were wide as he backed away.

I brought my knees up to my chest and scooted to the wall. My whole body was trembling as if I had just come from being submerged under a frozen lake.

Our gazes locked for a brief, weighty moment. My eyes trailed from his hollow face down to the syringe dangling from limp fingers. The liquid within was a frothing green. I got nauseous just looking at it.

“Should I ask?” I whispered.

The vial disappeared into his lab coat. “Better if you don’t.”

“I’m not supposed to be conscious right now. You weren’t supposed to wake me up. So why did you?”

His gaze considerably sharpened. “You heard all of that?”

“My body was frozen, not my mind or ears. Maybe you should make sure that serum actually works before you inject it into someone.”

“Of course we made sure it works. I tested it on your blood sample myself!”

Some fire rushed through my veins again and I straightened my posture. “Well, maybe your HYDRA ‘revolutionary’ technology isn’t so impressive after all.”

“Maybe it is,” his eyes narrowed. “But maybe you’re just unusual.”

I stifled a laugh. “I’m the daughter of a baker and a special operative, trained in infiltration and baking, stuck in the city of Novi Grad no matter how much I’ve traveled and longed to get out of Sokovia. Do you think that’s normal?”

His lips pinched together and he took brisk steps towards me. He placed two fingers underneath my jaw and took measure of my racing heartbeat. Though I was shaking too badly to pull away or fight back, I still leveled him with a heated glare. He hummed thoughtfully.

“You do realize your pulse is going as fast as if you had run for twenty minutes, at least. What I just injected you with should have slowly thawed you, but you reacted immediately.” He placed his hands in his pockets and stepped away. “When I was put under and brought back again, I couldn’t hear, I couldn’t breathe, and it took three days to melt out.”

“You went through that?”

He frowned at me. “Just because you work for HYDRA doesn’t mean you’re safe from their reach.”

With that, he turned on his heel and left. The door slammed shut and locks clicked into place. What was with him and slamming doors?

He paused in front of the observation window and watched me, an indiscernible expression on his face. I stared right back — I didn’t like being stared at and I was going to make him know that. Someone must have called him, because he started and hurried down the corridor.

I waited a few moments before uncurling and sliding off my worn boots. My feet cried in relief and I gently massaged them. Spots of red dotted the thick, woolen socks. I peeled them off and winced when I saw my bloody, blistered heels and toes.

Those boots were not meant to be worn for the exertion I used them for and now I was paying for it.

I stumbled over to the sink and turned on the creaky faucet. It took several laborious attempts to cup the water and spill it across my feet. The water was barely above freezing, but I had no choice. I needed to clean them before they got infected. After a few minutes, most of the blood was washed off and I left them to dry. I wiggled my toes until some feeling returned to them.

My brain started running through scenarios to try and figure out what my next moves were. Do I play the obedient captor? Or the the stubborn girl?

There obviously was more to me being here than a simple Novi Grad prisoner. They wanted to learn and test on me. They wanted me to keep the twins in control. Which, I could probably do, if they still had the same warmth they showed me in the ballroom.

Somehow, I needed to get to a console and contact the Mist. I could download all of HYDRA’s files while I was at it. You never knew when top secret intelligence would be useful. But how was I going to do either of those things?

I found myself stroking my tattoo and I quickly pulled my fingers away. Holding my hands in front of my face, I realized they were shaking. Not slight tremors, but full on quaking. I needed to rest, at least for a little bit, there was no way for me to keep going like this.

I drew my coat as close as I could before falling into an uneasy slumber.

\- -

I jerked out of my cot when the door creaked open. I landed on my knees and prepared to run or fight, whichever came first. But when I looked up, it was Pietro, his easy smile replaced with a tight line of worry. His eyes were bloodshot and dull.

“How did you get in here?” I said. It seemed like the obvious question.

“Wanda.”

I collapsed onto my forearms, grateful there was no threat. My body was fully trembling now, the brace holding my wrist in place was clanking with every painful rock of my bones. Esper was right, I really didn’t want to know what was in the serum, because whatever it was destroying me from the inside out.

“Are you going to just stand there?” I asked him, my voice shaky. “Or are you going to help me up?”

Pietro swooped down and half-lifted, half-heaved me onto the cot. I emitted a short gasp as my bruised body broke against the rock-hard mattress. With trembling fingers, I rolled up my shirt enough to see my bones a fervid red and pressed tightly against my skin.

I struggled to sit up, collapsing against the wall and tracing my rib cage with a tender finger. “What did they do to me?”

As silent as a cat, he stalked to the bed and sat at the foot. He folded his arms over his broad chest and stared at the floor.

“This is how it started. . . for us.”

“What do you mean? Fighting in the ballroom and traipsing across a HYDRA compound was also part of your curriculum?”

His jaw tightened. “No, the experiments. They started small, nothing more than freezing and unfreezing the blood in our veins. Electrodes taped to our foreheads so that small electric currents could run through our body.”

“Pietro—“

“We will do everything in our power to make sure you don’t go through what we did.” His hard gaze locked with mine. “We just need you to follow our lead.”

“The last time I tried that I ended up chased across half this fortress and severely injured my wrist. Though you are still my best friend, there’s no way I’m following your lead again.”

“I know you well enough, Melina. You like to figure things out on your own, but this isn’t one of those times. We can protect you because they need us. They don’t need you. They can kill you tomorrow and they won’t care. But we need you to stay alive.”

“Why?” I cocked my head. “You left me behind for three years, all without telling me where you had been and why. I was left mourning the loss of my best friends.”

He was silent for a few moments, apparently pondering something. Finally; he reached into the pocket of his dark track suit and pulled out a folded picture. He held it out to me with two fingers, glancing away as I took it.

The picture was well folded, deep white creases dividing it into quarters. In faded color, Pietro and Wanda were beaming at the camera, their Mom dropping a kiss to Pietro’s forehead, their Dad throwing his head back in laughter.

A faint memory stirred as I stared at it. “Is this. . .?”

“Turn it over.”

I flipped over the photo to see sloppy cursive scrawled across the back. To my favorite set of twins (& their parents). Love, your Little Fox.

“Aw, I remember this. I took this picture on your ninth birthday. Didn’t I give you it in a frame or something? You were a beautiful family. I miss your parents almost as much as I missed you.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, glancing away. “You’re the only family we have left. That’s why we can’t let you be experimented on. You have to get through this with us.”

We were silent for a few weighty minutes, our silent gazes doing all the talking for us. The loyalty of our bond still remained, sure, but it was much different now. Our lives had drastically altered and there was no going back to what we used to be.

Finally, Pietro spoke,”Why didn’t you take the shot?”

“What?”

“When you had Strucker at gunpoint in the city square that day. Why didn’t you take the shot?”

“I’d never killed someone directly before.” I brought my knees up to my chest. “Dad taught me to shoot to kill, yes. But I shouldn’t take that lightly. Enough lives have been lost because of the mistakes I’ve made. If I can prevent any others, I will.”

His eyes narrowed at that last bit, but he didn’t comment. “So will you tell me what you’re planning?”

“I’m not getting you involved, Pietro.”

“Why not? We’re the reason you’re here in the first place.”

“Whatever I’m planning has nothing to do with you. If you stay out of it, I can get it done that much quicker.”

“I run faster than a bullet, Melina. You can’t get any quicker than me. Whatever you need, I can get done faster than anyone else can.”

I harrumphed. I’d forgot how annoying he could be when he decided to be stubborn. Which had been rare enough in childhood — he’d always preferred to go with the flow. Though he made good points, he didn’t have the skills or cunning that I did. Every emotion was plain as day on his face. He’d give everything away before I could even get started.

Wanda was better at subtlety, anyhow. If I was going to ask one of the twins for help, it would be her.

“I’m not planning anything, Pietro,” the lie rolled easily off my tongue. “I’m just trying to survive this. Ending up in a HYDRA base doesn’t happen to just anyone, you know. I need to keep a cool head. That’s all.”

“They’re experimenting on you - that’s most definitely not all.”

I sighed and buried my face in my hands. “What do I have to do for you to leave me alone? I survived missions in the field, I somewhat know what I am doing.”

“Somewhat isn’t going to guarantee your safety, Melina.”

“But it might just save my life.” I quirked a grin. I passed back the photo to him, squeezing his hand when it came in reach. “I got this, Pietro. Don’t worry.”

\- -


	7. The Cracking of the Glass

“Oh, I definitely don’t got this,” I whispered.

The wind whistled around the rooftop, numbing every part of my exposed skin. I held a lock pick kit trembling hands. The metal handle was frozen to my skin and I desperately wished I was wearing gloves. I rubbed my newly freed wrist — the brace had been forcibly taken away, leaving it throbbing.

For punishment of being awake two days early, Strucker decided for me to spend a whole afternoon on the slippery rooftops of the compound. He hadn’t even let me change into warmer clothes. My swollen feet had barely fit back into my boots, after which I realized I could barely walk.

Strucker’s reasoning for this exercise was for me to find the one unbarred window in this whole compound. It could only be opened with the foresaid kit cradled in my hands.

He didn’t explain the why behind this exercise, but I knew I was going to hate every moment of it. My incentive was if I got in the building, I would get a piping hot shower. But only if I could find it before dusk.

I squinted at the sun’s place in the hazy sky. I only had four hours. It had taken me two hours for my escapade last time. No telling how long it would take me to check every single window. I trailed my gaze from the sun’s place to the forest below, light glinting of specks of slushy snow. The forest stretched as far as I could see, bare Novi Grad place haphazardly below.

The sun beamed down against my neck and I hated that I could be absolutely freezing and boiling hot at the same time. I ran my tongue over my cracked, bloody lips, trying to figure out what to do next.

There had to be a smarter way of doing this. Checking every window was going to be time-consuming and laborious, expending energy I simply didn’t have. My hands could barely stop shaking as it was. But I couldn’t tell from here what might be open and what not.

I tucked the small kit down my shirt and into my belt. I hoped it would hold. Flipping up the collar of my jacket, I made sure every button was secured and tight to my torso. Extra movement was fine for fighting, less so for climbing. The last thing I needed was extra fabric throwing me off.

Padding lightly on my tender feet, I slowly made my way to the edge and peered over. It was a dizzying drop and I pulled away before my head started spinning too badly.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” I asked myself, closing my eyes and resting my forehead against the tile. “All because I didn’t run away. I’m such an idiot. If I ever get home, Mom’s going to kill me.”

With that incredibly motivating self-talk, I grasped the edge of the gutter and heaved myself over the side to a small ledge I could brace against. My boots dug into the stone for traction.

I cried out when one of my feet slipped off the slick side and I nearly lost my balance. I gripped the railing with double to force, bringing my nose centimeters from the wall. Forcing myself to breathe deeply, I began shuffling over to the nearest window, careful step by step. My wrist didn’t like the exertion I was putting it through, but at least it was cooperating with me.

It was slow going at first. But soon I picked up speed. The nearest window was twenty meters away, but I made up the distance in a matter of minutes. I tapped on the pane lightly. The metallic ring told me all I needed to know: it was barred from the inside. There was no way I was getting in here.

The kit had slowly started to rise out of my belt. I used my free hand to shove it down as far as I could, no matter how uncomfortable it was. I needed it to stay in place. If I lost it, my warm shower would be all but imagination.

The next few windows were only five meters apart. I tapped them each successively with my boot and each one was barred.

By this point, my arms were aching and my knees were knocking against each other. I groaned and rested my forehead against stone. At this rate, it would be three days before I found my entry point. Luckily, not too much time had passed and I already covered a whole row. But there were at least four rows below me, let alone all the ones on the other wings.

Think, Melina! There has to be a way to outsmart this.

Slowly, I let go of the gutter and knelt in front of the last window. My fingers were cramped and frozen and I attempted rub some sort of feeling back into them.

The window itself was dusty and hazy, frost glinting on the edges. I rubbed a sleeve over the exterior edge where the two panes met. Just beyond the glass, three vertical black bars blocked any further view.

I slid the kit out of my belt and flicked open the latch. Small tools were laid in neat rows, held to the side of the case by small clasps. These were tool akin to the ones I used to work with, but they were much shinier and obviously unused.

I took out a small knife and pressed it between the crack of the window and sliced it through the lock. It was a weak piece of metal that was holding closed and it easily gave way. I swung one side of the window open. It creaked lightly on frost bitten hinges, but otherwise, it was silent.

I tucked the knife back into the case and pressed a palm against the bars. There was an electric zing in the air and I hastily pulled back. Tendrils of lightning ran across one bar to another until all were alight with electricity that crackled and hissed.

So apparently I couldn’t cheat my way out of this one.

I bit my lip and considered what I do next. A strong gust of wind raked across the side of the building and nearly sent me flying into the bars. I slammed my arms against the sill to brace myself. I panted for breath as strands of hair flicked across my cheeks.

“That was close,” I muttered, scowling at the bars mere millimeters from my nose.

Close wasn’t going to cut it anymore. If I was going to survive this, I needed to always be on my guard.

With one arm still bracing me, I tucked the kit into my belt, all while studying the bars. There was no way for me to touch them, let alone get through them. As desperately as I wanted a warm shower, I probably wasn’t going to find the window in time.

I glanced through my boots to the window below me. I didn’t have time dwell on the pounding in my chest or the pain in my body. Without allowing myself to think, I pushed off from the safety of my sill and plummeted downwards. I slammed my palm onto the ledge, digging my fingers into. stone. My wrists jolted in pain but held strong.

Groaning, I did a meek pull up to the window. One look told me all I needed to know. Any energy holding my arms in place fell apart and I dropped, left hanging by the tips of my fingers.

The numb pads on my fingers began to slip, my tired body starting to give out. I gritted my teeth and heaved myself up again with what little momentum I had left. When my hips glanced against the sill, I quickly spun around so I was sitting on the shallow ledge.

I closed my eyes and leaned against the window. My feet swung and gently scuffed against the uneven wall in an odd tandem. If my quivering body was any indication, I needed a rest, and no better time than the present.

My billowing breath crystallized in the afternoon air. The small puffs blown away by tempestuous wind. I allowed my gaze to travel after its meandering path towards the atmosphere. For the first time since I was captured, my thoughts began to still and settle into blissful calm.

Exhaustion made every part of my body sag and wish to let go of the railing, but my mind reminded me to hold on. I was still fighting, just in a much different way than I used to.

When I worked with Mom at the booth, I was fighting to keep my chin up, to see each day through completion. I wanted my dreams to come true and the only way to do that was to bear down and get each day done.

Now that I was here, I was fighting for survival. If feelings got hurt, so be it. If my body slowly unraveled under the strain, so be it. I was getting out of here and taking HYDRA down.

My teeth sunk into my lip as my thoughts snapped into focus. An idea rose the surface of my thoughts. An outlandish, imperfect, doomed-to-fail idea that would most likely end with me breaking something — probably my neck.

But I would be so worth it.

I grinned at the newly emerging sunlight cutting through the clouds. Strucker wouldn’t know what was coming.

\- -

After taking a few minutes to prepare myself, I scuttled to the nearest drainpipe and wrapped my newly-clothed hands around it. My worn, bloody socks were a buffer between the freezing metal and my tender palms. The last thing I needed was my hands to stick. My recently freed toes were already beginning to freeze.

I clutched the pipe close and pushed off from my meager ledge to wrap my body around the pole like a fireman. I dug the tread of my boots into the gaps between worn stone. The next cracks below me were about a meter apart from one another. The ground was several stories down.

Allowing myself a beat to steady myself, I pushed off with my feet and glided down the pipe. Between the socks and the ice-covered drain, there was little friction to my descent. My fall was rapid and I had to keep digging my boots against the wall to slow my momentum down.

Even though my hands were swaddled, the cold still bit through the worn cloth to my fingers. Every few seconds, I would would have to halt to stretch out my cramping fingers.

Moment by moment, I got closer to the ground and its safety. It was a good thing, too, because every part of me was aching and ready to let go. I was about ten meters from the ground when two guards came around the corner and marched under me. Their gear was the same mottled gray that I had seen earlier.

I clung to the pipe and halted my descent. My labored breath whistled between clenched teeth in any attempted to make myself as quiet as possible.

They paused directly under me and began chatting nonchalantly. One even leaned against the wall and began massaging his feet. I rolled my eyes, but then an idea burst into my head like lightning. I widened my eyes and glanced down, judging if I could actually do it.

Then, shrugging to myself, I let go and plummeted the last little bit. Before I hit the ground, I launched myself off my perch and on top of one of the guards.

My body weight slammed him into the ground. The wind was knocked out of me, but nothing worse than that. Wet, muddy snow pressed into my mouth. I spluttered.

His companion reached for his gun, but I had already leapt up and kicked him into the wall. He gave a muted grunt.

“Listen,” I said, panting. “All I want is your tool belt. There’s no need for you to start firing at me.”

Apparently there was a need, because he drew his pistol and pointed it at my chest. His eyes were wide and startled, just as mine would be if a girl suddenly dropped from the heavens.

“My name is Melina Angelova and Strucker is running me through an exercise. Which is why I just jumped off the side of the building. The only way for me to complete it is if you give me your belt. So, please, hand it over before this gets any messier.”

The muzzle of his gun lowered a fraction, giving me enough space to kick it out of his hand and knock him unconscious. His body dropped heavily too the ground.

Groaning, I rubbed my tender wrist and knelt by his side. I took off his utility belt and examined it. There were several loops and compartments filled with strange gadgets and extra bullets. But strapped to the back was a pair of binoculars.

I plucked them from the belt and slung them around my neck, dropping the rest by the soldier’s side. I pressed a finger against the kit still tucked by my side to assure myself it was in place. Now that I was on the ground, I took off my makeshift mittens and recovered my freezing toes. I scowled when I realized my boots were shredded, the tread falling apart after all the exertion I put it through.

Oh well. They would better get me new ones if they expected me to do insane stuff like this again. I yanked on the shoes and hobbled to my feet. Now that I had binoculars, it was only a matter of finding a good vantage point of the compound.

I glanced at the woods around me, knowing well that there was no way I could climb a tree in my state. My body was already too exhausted and cramped. If I attempted a tree as my viewpoint, I would surely end up breaking my neck.

I popped the caps of the binoculars and held them up to my eyes. These were high-tech, the sights immediately adjusting to where I pointed them. Blue highlighted important structural components that I pointed it at, such as arches or major support beams.

I stepped away from the wall enough to be able to look at a window. After a moment it needed to focus, it highlighted the horizontal bars in an electric blue. I widened the sight line and the whole wall of windows had bars over them.

“Huh,” I murmured, dropping them to my chest. Maybe my idea was going to work after all.

Distantly, I heard crunches in the snow and they sounded hurried. I clutched the scopes to my chest and took off in the opposite direction, my own boots pounding against the turf. I ducked around the corner and peered at the windows that I could see. Again, all were electrified in stunning blue.

I squeezed my eyes shut. This was going to take forever and too much energy I couldn’t dare lose.

But I really didn’t have any other options.

Keeping my precious cargo close to keep it from bouncing, I ducked around corners and kept a steady pace. For each new window I came across, I peered at it hopefully. But each time, I was sorely disappointed.

Each time I paused, I heard the distant coming of footsteps. There was no rest for me, I had to keep moving no matter how desperately I wished to collapse. Now I kind of wished I had taken the soldier’s gun. It appears I would need it.

I was almost to the back of the building, grateful that this was the deserted part of the fortress. I peered upwards with my binoculars and a thrill went through me when I saw one dark window at the very top.

Tucking the binoculars in my jacket, I grasped the nearest handhold and heaved myself up. My wrist jolted but complied as I reached for the nearest sill and heaved my feet upwards to boost me that much further. I did this again and again and was thrilled to find myself getting higher on the wall.

I glanced down over my shoulder to see a man running below me. Though I was too high up to distinguish who it was, I knew he wasn’t a soldier — he lacked the black and blood red armor. He slowed his pace, seemingly confused. He whirled around and I had a feeling he would be looking up next.

My fingers were numb and cracked as I forced them into every handhold I found. I squeezed my muscles together and heaved my exhausted body further up.

I forced myself to not look down. Heights has never been my favorite and the last thing I needed was to tumble because I lost my concentration.

Slow, careful minute by minute I made my way to the unbarred window. I was hyper aware of the darkening sky, the gray of a cloudy day shifting to the gloom of night.

I didn’t know how much time passed, but I eventually made it to the window. I balanced carefully while digging the kit out of my belt and hurriedly unlatching it.

I repeated the same process I did on the other window. I stuck the knife between the two panes and deftly pried them apart. The glass broke under my force, minuscule spiderwebs spreading across the surface.

I dropped the kit to the floor as I slid into the hallway. I collapsed against the wall, starting when i noticed Strucker staring coldly at me. He held a ticking stopwatch in his hand, which he switched off.

We were silent a moment before I said breathily, “I’d think I would like my shower now.”

“Not just yet, Miss Angelova. We need to discuss your journey this afternoon. You showed great strength and innovation. But you cheated. Using a guard as your personal armory was as ridiculous as you using binoculars finding the right window.”

I stuck my chin out. “It isn’t cheating if you never specified what I can and cannot do. If anything, it’s your fault. If you set impossible goals, you’d better expect for me to outthink them.”

He held out his hand. “The binoculars, Miss Angelova.”

I untucked the glasses and placed them in his hand, adding the kit on top of them.

“My shower, Strucker.”

His eye narrowed behind his monocle. He tucked his hands behind his back and snapped at a guard to get me to a washroom.

I closed my eyes and dropped my chin to my chest. My crystal clear thoughts now muddled by exhaustion. Hands wrapped around my arms and heaved me to my feet.

It was all I could do to stumble along. My boots ended up dragging more often than I was able to lift them. I was barely unconscious as I was pushed into a narrow shower cell.

In a dark haze, I stripped to my underclothes and stepped under the warm stream of water with my eyes closed. It was so comforting and inviting that I longed to give myself fully to the relaxing temperature.

I hadn’t realized I was falling over until I was collapsed on the floor; water pooled around me. I blinked slowly at my outstretched fingertips which were rapidly turning a dark, dark grey. It rapidly spread down my arm and towards my chest.

I would have been scared if I didn’t feel the droplets of water start to slow, hovering in midair a split second before they fell on me. Pietro was right, they had done something to me.

I was barely able to fathom what my body was doing before dark grey covered my entire vision and I was sucked into the world of my nightmares.


	8. The Sparring of the Minds

Strangely enough, my nightmares felt nowhere near as real as Wanda’s vision that she placed in my head. They were distorted and distant, as if I was watching them on a warped projector from far away. It was so easy to tell they weren't real, but that didn't make them any less terrifying.

It was one endless breathless moment to the next. I could barely recover from one before I was thrust into another head first and without any sense of where I had been and where I was going. These were the nightmares like my Dad used to have, all-consuming and fiery.

One moment I was running for my life from rabid wolves, the next I was burning alive in an inferno, the next after that I was entrenched in snow as bullets scattered and exploded around me. It kept going and going, each situation was me helplessly running and fighting for my life, only to end with my death. Sometimes it was easy and quick, others it was tortuous and prolonged.

The one thing that was similar in all of them was the pain. I must have screamed myself hoarse in the first terror, but I kept finding new breath for all the ones that came after. Consciously, I knew they weren't real, that I was probably lying on a gurney somewhere with HYDRA scientists poking and prodding me. But they were just to overwhelming for me to ignore.

I was so exhausted I couldn't cry out anymore and I gave myself over completely to the pain. I was done struggling. I was done trying to fight.

Just as I made that decision, the nightmare solidified into a dark silence. It was muffling and consuming. Every time I breathed, some of the shadows entered my lungs and pressed like stuffing against my chest, forcing all oxygen out.

Gagging, I collapsed to my knees and gagged, spitting for any sort of breath. I clutched my chest futilely and dug my fingers into my shirt. Asphyxiation soon took over and my vision dimmed. Pure instinct took over and I clawed at my throat, as if that would help.

Distantly, I heard the beeping of a frantic heart monitor and people yelling for a defibrillator. They were distressed, by the sounds of it. All kinds of medical equipment were humming and whirring, attempting to keep someone alive.

They were trying to keep me alive.

I longed to cry out to them, ask them to stop the pain, to do anything to help. But the shadows swallowed me before I could fully comprehend what was happening. Squeezing my eyes shut, I forced myself to relax slowly, muscle by muscle.

Dad had often told me that in high-stress situations soldiers were so wound up and focused on the pain or the adrenaline, they pushed their body too far or missed the details that might save their life. I couldn't afford that kind of carelessness now. If the darkness was forcing its way into my lungs, then I simply needed to exhale it.

That was the only thing I could do at this point. I had no weapons to fire, no place to run.

I pinched my nose and exhaled a large gust of breath, forcing my lungs empty until my chest heaved for air. Shuddering, I curled into myself, clutching my nose and mouth to keep from inhaling.

"Just breathe, Melina. It'll be okay."

I opened my heavy eyelids to see Wanda kneeling beside me. The darkness behind her shifted with every movement. Her eyes were a beaming crimson, hands clutched into fists in her lap.

"I know it's painful and I know it's scary, but you won't survive if you don't surrender."

How do I know you're not another nightmare? I thought, even as I started to lose consciousness.

She smiled sadly. "In our business, there is no such thing as no nightmares. Or haven't you realized that yet, my little shadow fox?"

I narrowed my eyes. The last time I had heard that phrase, I had been overwhelmed by a reality that was not my own. The ballroom filled with portraits of my deepest, most precious dreams. The shadows that had a mind of their own. The heavy taste of ash on my tongue.

"Clever girl," the specter-Wanda said, her smile becoming dangerously razor-edged. "You can't be fooled easily, I'll give you that. You pay attention to the details, unlike your predecessor. Maybe if I had used Pietro as my form, you would have believed me easier."

I snorted. As if I would ever trust the thing currently invading my mind.

A distant beeping soon became louder and louder. It was slowing and ebbing away, like a heartbeat struggling to fight for survival. With my free hand, I fumbled to find my pulse, only to find none under my fingertips.

Widening my eyes, I locked eyes with not-Wanda. She shrugged nonchalantly. "You're dying. Not breathing is killing you here and in real life. Either you trust me and live, or you don't and you die."

I didn't like either of those options.

"Listen, a lot of the people working on you right now don't care if you live or die, but I know Pietro and Wanda will. They'll blame themselves to the end of time if you don't survive this."

Setting my jaw, I lowered my hands and clasped them to keep them from shaking. Without breaking eye-contact, I gasped for breath, allowing the burning in my chest to cease.

Immediately, I regretted it. Thick sludge entered my airways and pressed like needles against the inside of my throat and down into my lungs. It pooled on my chest and pressed against my spine, sending pain firing across every nerve in my body. Gasping, I fell to my side and curled into a tight fetal position, hugging my knees to my chest.

I fought to keep my eyes open and trained on the not-Wanda. If I was going to die, I wanted to let it know that I was going down with what was left of my dignity.

She began to shift from my friend to the barest outline of a person. A shadow among shadows. The phantom crossed her legs, keeping her gleaming red eyes trained on my face. "One more breath and it'll be over, one way or another. Just one more time, little shadow fox, I promise."

I was in too much pain to doubt her words. I sucked a large gust of the darkness, bringing in whatever air I could. Solidifying the moment it entered my body, I choked and struggled against the unseen force acting on my body.

Just as I was starting to lose all sense, the phantom placed a finger on my temple and began to trace slow circles on my skin. With each cycle, my eyelids became heavier and heavier and pain began to ease off my chest.

"Next time, little shadow fox," the phantom said as I lost consciousness, "start listening to me sooner. Your life won't be so easily saved next time."

I longed to ask what 'next time' meant, but my head was too heavy, my thoughts to thick to process. Blinking one last time, I gave into the darkness’ claim on me.

\- -

The first thing that cut through my hazy consciousness was a distant sharp beeping that slowly grew louder with every passing moment. The ringing in my head slowly gave way and fully echoed the steady tandem of a heart monitor.

As if another person inserted the thought, I indirectly realized that it was my heart struggling for its next pump. It was slow, much slower than the regular heart rate.

I focused on the beeping as the rest of my body slowly returned to alertness. Muscle by muscle tingled as if coming back from a long sleep. The feeling swept from my chest through my veins, down my arms and legs, and up towards my brain.

My thoughts started to cycle slowly, thinning so I could process them in a more logical order. The fever-vision replayed over and over and I still couldn’t make any sense of it.

What little I did understand made me doubt everything all the more.

Swallowing, I shifted on the mattress, aware of bindings that held my forearms tightly to railing of the cot. My hands curled into fists and I tried to yank free, but I was as weak as a newborn and I couldn’t tug away.

“Barely survived death, yet you’re still fighting. You’re truly a mystery.”

A cool hand slipped around my wrist and rubbed a circle on my skin, just like the phantom had done. Yet, I wasn’t scared; though my eyes were closed, I still recognized Esper’s American twang. And even though I didn’t fully trust anyone on this compound, he had helped me once, when he wasn't supposed to. He might still be a mystery, but he cared enough about human life.

“Easy, Angelova.” His other hand pressed my shoulder to the cot. “You can’t simply go through that kind of torture and walk away so easily. You need rest.”

I coughed and nearly doubled over, fire blazing across my chest. Phlegm caught in my throat and I nearly choked. Blood started to trickle from my nose and a metallic tang pooled on my lips. I licked what I could away, wishing I could use my hands to brush it away.

A wet rag was placed in front of my nose. “Blow,” Esper instructed.

I did so, albeit weakly. All I could taste and smell was blood, yet I was so grateful to not be dead I almost welcomed the sensation.

“You’re going to be here for quite awhile. They need to make sure your vital signs are stable and you won’t faint at any moment.”

“I didn’t faint,” I mumbled through my cracked lips. Esper removed his hand from my shoulder.

“Well, you ended up unconscious on the shower floor with hot water steaming off of you. It sure looked like you fainted.”

I realized that when I saw the water slow and hover around me, it was only another part of the vision. It wasn’t on account of anything I was or had done. I wasn’t like my friends.

Swallowing bloody phlegm, I attempted to open my tired eyelids, only to realize that they were nearly crusted shut from dried tears. Flakes clung to my eyelashes as my gaze started to come into focus.

Everything was blurry at first, but it soon sharpened on Esper’s lined face hovering over mine. Bloodshot eyes trailed from my face to the crimson-streaked rag he held in hand. His elbows were resting by my bound arm, dark fingers placed over my pulse.

Tiredly, I turned to the monitor next to my head. My oxygen levels and heartbeat were steadier than I expected, coming from such a near death situation.

My eyes trailed across the small room, taking in the incredibly high-tech equipment and barred door. I could see the helmet of a soldier standing right outside the observation window, his head held high to attention.

“How long was I—“ I said, trying not to choke on the clumps rising in my throat.

“Nearly a week.” He frowned and his gaze drifted to the monitor. “Halfway through, you stopped breathing and we couldn’t figure out why. You weren’t going into cardiac arrest and your airways were clear.

“To say you nearly died is an understatement. Your body was literally ripping itself apart, cell by cell. I’d never seen anything like it.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” But his tone convinced me otherwise. “You are an experiment and it would be a pity for you to die this far in.”

Sighing, I let it be. I was in an uncertain enough of a position as it was. The last thing I needed to do was to push a matter that would make a HYDRA scientist angry.

Frowning, I allowed myself to relax. Like he said, I almost died and I deserved a little rest. I shifted to find a more comfortable position and tucked my head to my shoulder.

“Wake me in a week,” I murmured. “I’ve been fighting for my life and I deserve some sleep.”

He snorted softly, giving my wrist a small squeeze. I was hyper-aware of his thumb resting on my skin, staying there until the drowsiness overtook me.

\- -

I was awake for a long time, staring at the darkened ceiling while machines whirred softly around me. After the initial few hours of rest, sleep evaded my body, even though I wanted and needed it so desperately.

I couldn’t shift more than a few centimeters to get comfortable. My arms were still handcuffed to the sides. Part of me wondered how badly I had flailed and screamed for them to restrain me so tightly.

Now that the blood had trickled away from my throat, I could feel the hoarseness from screaming myself dry. It scraped at my throat and I pulled against my bonds. I’d always hated having the inevitable and uncomfortable sniffle every winter, but not being able to wipe my nose was another thing all together.

I passed the hours glaring at the ceiling and wishing desperately I could move my arms. The drone of the machines was unchanging, the endless buzzing overwhelming my hearing. Like the dripping that happened in my cell when I first arrived, it was all I could listen to.

Somewhere during that endless time, my focus sharpened enough to remember my earlier idea with contacting the Mist. Now that I could actually breathe and consider my next steps, it would be best to strategist. To get in touch with her, l I needed was a console. I huffed in frustration. I was surrounded by tons of available technology, yet I could get no closer to them.

Using my feet to dig into the mattress, I forced my body into as much of a sitting position as I could muster. I leaned over the bindings to examine them. They were of a strong metal, locked together by several latches that would only release if a key card was placed against them.

If I had at least one hand free, I could easily rewire. But since that wasn't an option. . . My gaze drifted from one wall to another, taking in every machine, every divot in the wall, every potential asset.

Next to my heart monitor, there was a dolly with tray full of medical tools, including a scalpel and forceps. I shuddered to think that they might have been used on me, but bereft of other options, I was grateful they were there.

Swinging my leg out, my toes brushed its edge and nearly hooked it. I tried again and successfully used the momentum to drag it over to the bedside. Straining hard against my bonds, I examined the contents of the tray, mildly pleased to see several different sized forceps.

Now all I had to do was get to them.

Just as I was draping my leg over to get them somehow, the door swung open. I froze, wide-eyed, as Strucker, Esper, and a few other scientists I didn't recognize entered. They stared at me with equally startled expressions, eyes trailing from my face to the tray by my bed.

"I told you she would try to out think you," Esper said, smiling smugly at his clipboard.

He seemed to be the only one who found any kind of enjoyment in it, though. Strucker was clearly furious. He snapped at someone to turn on the light and examine my vital signs. Several of his minions hurried to do so, never meeting my eyes, focusing fully on their work.

One even moved the dolly to the other side of the room, far from my reach.

I swallowed and refused to let my stare waver from Strucker. The next move was his. I hoped I could tell what it might be, just based off his expression, but it stayed a firm mask of fury.

"Everyone out!" Strucker ordered after a few silent moments.

"But sir-" one of the men interjected.

Strucker's responding glare immediately shut him up. All of them scurried from the room, except Esper, who casually leaned against the wall. His dark eyes were amused as he studied me, barely concealing a smirk.

"I am done playing this game, Miss Angelova," Strucker said. He paced towards me as volatile as a tiger. I inadvertently shrunk away. "Either you start cooperating or the consequences become real. Not just for you, but for the twins and your mother as well. We have recently discovered her hidden struggles. Us knowing that makes your position all the more precarious."

"Why?"

"Because we know what she needs."

I scowled. What was he talking about?

"Ah, I see you don't know." Strucker's expression cleared ever so slightly. "Isn't this a predicament?"

Just behind him, Esper's eyes narrowed and amusement faded instantly, turning him back into the serious column I knew him as. He caught my worried glance and shook his head in warning.

I needed to tread carefully here.

"I supposed it is," I slowly said. "The problem is, I don't know what you're going to do about it."

He straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. "Then I'll tell you. From now on, you will not leave the building. Not for tests or exercise. You will have physical training, then training with the twins, then with me. If you attempt any further escape, we will make sure your mother's life is forfeit to your mistakes."

I forced myself to swallow.

"Understood?" Strucker said. "I will not ask again, Miss Angelova."

Digging my nails into my palm, I nodded hesitantly. "Understood. I don't try to escape and I follow your directions to the letter."

"Good. At 0600 hours, you will be brought to the workout room and your bodily function will be assessed."

He narrowed his eyes until I agreed. With an angry swish, he turned on me and whispered something to Esper before exiting the room. I collapsed in relief, sagging against the bed and digging my face into the pillow.

I needed to hide the tears that poured down my cheeks. I was so tired, so overwhelmed by everything going on around me. Even though I was doing the best I could, it wasn't going to be enough to protect Mom. The reality of the situation was truly setting in now.

Help and escape seemed so far away. My plan to contact the Mist disappeared with the realization that one false step would cause Mom to die. I had enough inadvertent blood on my hands already, I couldn't handle hers as well. I needed to forget the survivalist instincts urging me to keep fighting.

Silent, Esper took notes on his clipboard, his pencil moving in swift lines on the page. Each scratch was amplified by the sporadic sobs that made my body shudder. It was impossible to keep in the water works once they started. I sniffled into the pillow. Crying was made all the harder when I couldn't wipe my face.

"Would you like the rag again?" his tone was almost concerned.

I snorted softly into the pillowcase. "I'd like to have my hands back, but apparently that's against regulation."

"They're just worried."

"About what? I've passed out at least three times while on the compound, let alone all the serums injected into me. I'm just a threat to myself at this point."

"Before you exited Sokovian special forces, what were you?"

That question made me turn my head. Where did that come from? "A special operative."

"Yeah, but what did you do? What was your title?"

"Infiltrator Thirteen of Shadow Squadron," I replied, then frowned as a sudden thought occurred to me.

The apparition called me 'little shadow fox.' Fox obviously came from Pietro's nickname for me, maybe the shadow part came from my old unit. But how would it know that? I buried all those memories so deep, not even Wanda could find them.

My nickname in the field had been 'Cameo.' Why didn't it pick up that? Why little shadow fox, of all things?

Esper was oblivious to my thoughts as he said, "Exactly. You're an infiltrator. You're built for entering and exiting without notice, using resources most would overlook. You could take HYDRA down with one hand behind your back."

I cocked my head as I registered his tone. "You say that almost proudly. Do you want me to take HYDRA down?"

His expression turned thunderous. "Stay out of it, Angelova. You can be disposed much easier than I can be."

Realizing I had become too familiar with my captor, I scowled at myself and tensed against the bindings when he neared.

"You need to watch that tongue, Angelova," he said in a low voice, his dark eyes glaring into mine. "It's going to get you killed."

It already has. I wanted to say it, but I didn't. My body might still have been alive, but my spirit had been torn to pieces, the first causality of my soul. Though, now that I considered it, my soul had never been truly intact in the first place.

I bit my lip and glanced at the soldier standing outside the doorway to the darkened hallway just beyond him. Very far down, I could see bright crimson curling around the corner.

Narrowing my eyes to focus my vision, I could pick out the silhouette of Wanda's glowing hand coaxing red around her in beautiful, elegant swirls. She was blindfolded with several electrode pads taped to her forehead and a scientist hovering nearby, taking prodigious notes.

Even from so far away, I could see the displeasure in her expression. She absentmindedly flickered her fingers from right to left, moving the red like an extension of herself, as if she was a blind person using it as a cane.

"I wish they wouldn't do that here," Esper muttered, casting a glower over his shoulder.

"What are they doing?"

"Training her. Her abilities need to be so attuned to her mind that they are instinctive for her."

"Does Pietro have to do stuff like this, too?"

Esper shook his head. "He only runs fast. Wanda can get into people's minds and tear them apart thought by thought. HYDRA wants to mold her into a weapon they can control. And they can't control her if she can't even control herself."

I watched as she made her way down the corridor and stopped in front of my doorway. Her head turned towards us and tilted ever-so-slightly to the side. For a brief moment, her glowing eyes flickered from behind the blindfold, ominously red.

"Your friend can be intense sometimes," Esper said as we watched her leave.

Shifting my arms lower so the manacles weren't digging into my wrists so much, I shook my head. He had no idea.

When we were children, she'd always been intense, no matter if we were playing make-believe or trying to survive world history. Her gaze bored into your soul, whether you were prepared for it or not.

“What time do I have to get up for my workout?” I asked.

He shrugged. “You have about twelve hours to rest.”

“Very well,” I said, closing my eyes. “Then disappear. I need my sleep.”

He harrumphed. A few moments later, the door opened and shut softly.

I fell against the bed, taking in my first deep breath of the last couple hours. My thoughts felt frozen and dull. Any time I tried to grasp at them, they would slip through my fingers and back to the haziness of my conscious.

Others might have called me crazy if I ever admitted this, but I still felt as if the apparition was still in my brain, picking apart every memory, every thought I'd ever had. Down to the darkest parts of me, it was there and rooting through the murkiness.

I longed to claw at my temples and force the thing out but I knew that would do little good. I just had to bear it for twelve hours. I could do that.

After all, I'd survived worse in infiltrator training. 

Well, maybe survived wasn’t the word. Endured might have been the better one. Either way, I could do this. 

I sunk my teeth into my lip and forced back sobs. I could do this, I could do this. 

Yes you can, my little shadow fox. Yes you can. But there are going to be sacrifices among the way. Let’s see if you can survive those.

You have no idea what’s coming. And for your sake, I hope you’re prepared to lose everything to gain it all. 

\- -


	9. The Stalling of the End

“Up and at ‘em, Angelova.”

I jerked out of the doze I’d sustained for most of the night, blinking wearily at Esper standing in the doorway. The weariness in his face no doubt mirrored mine, dark bruises under each eye. The hands holding his clipboard were shaking.

He barely glanced at the monitors, instead focusing fully on me. “Don’t make any stupid decisions today, Angelova. You’re on incredibly thin ice here. You’re one misstep away from termination.”

That was definitely a nicer way of saying ‘death.’ Still ominous, nonetheless.

“So are you, it would seem,” I muttered. “Strucker seems to only tolerate you. And your absolute hatred for this place doesn’t help either.”

“Yeah, but you’re the prisoner here. I’m not.”

He didn't act like a free man. If anything, the emptiness in his eyes said the exact opposite was true."That means I can take you down with me even easier than I breathe."

"Which, according to earlier this week, is something you can struggle with."

A rueful smile flickered across my face. "Truce, then? You keep me alive, I keep you out of trouble?"

"Angelova, I've been in trouble for the last two years. It's too late for your help."

“Esper, then you don’t know the use of a Sokovian infiltrator.” I stretched out slightly, blinking away the last of sleep. “My specialty is digging my crew out of trouble. I’ve recovered five missions from defeat before this.”

“I’m not a mission, Angelova.”

I couldn’t help but cock my head, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Aren’t you?”

I was slightly taken aback by my own words. What was I saying? I didn’t have the time to worry about him, let alone myself and the twins. Why was I saying such things?

But even deep down I realized that he was as trapped as I. He wanted out and free as much as I did. He clearly didn’t have the fighting experience that could protect him — not like I could.

And, not to mention, he was close to Strucker. Or at least Strucker didn’t completely hate Esper, which might be the closest relationship the rogue scientist director had. If I could get on the good side of the American, it might just help me in the long run.

“You need to stop that,” Esper said, glancing up from his clipboard.

“What?”

“You have a plotting face. It’s pretty easy to read that you’re making nefarious plans.”

“Me, nefarious?”

“Aren’t you the same girl who used to be a Sokovian Special Operative and Infiltrator for the Shadow Squadron?”

Conceding, I shrugged, stuffing a part of me aside that screamed at me to stop talking to this teenager. He was the enemy, keeping me locked up and testing me.

Whatever happened, I couldn’t trust him.

“I might be able to say the same for you,” Esper muttered, marking something down.

We both froze, staring wide-eyed at the other. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, two guards burst in and shoved Esper aside.

I made a weak excuse that I needed more rest, that I was exhausted, that if they wanted me to do anything productive—

Regardless of how little sleep I got, I was uncuffed and heaved me out of bed and practically dragged me out of the room. I didn’t break eye contact with Esper once, trying to read from his expression what was going on.

He looked just as speechless as I felt.

I was lead out of the room and down and narrow corridor, dumped in the nearest bathroom. The guards who had accompanied me warned that escape would result in severe punishment. For whom, they neglected to mention. Though, I had a pretty good idea after Strucker’s warning the other day.

I stumbled on the tile floor and braced myself against the sink. My forearms were red and deeply creased from the tight bindings, blood flushing against my skin in anger of my recent entrapment. I rubbed them with pale fingers, trying to get some sort of feeling back into them, grateful to finally be able to use my arms again.

What just happened left me speechless and flabbergasted, completely unsure of how to respond. Did Esper just read my mind? Does that mean he was the apparition plaguing my dream?

Shuddering, I placed my head in my hands and attempted to breathe normally.

As I did so, I caught a glimpse of my reflection, my hair seemed to be much longer than when I last looked at myself, the braids haphazard and falling apart. My cheeks were deeply sunken and I sadly realized my only real meal in this place had been the porridge I ate all-too-long ago.

My eyes were still the same cornflower blue, but there were shadows in them, a darkness I didn’t recognize from last time. Deep, cloudy shadows that rivaled Dad’s. Just before his death, his gaze held the same haunted look. I once wondered what he had been through to appear as such — I didn’t any longer.

Realizing I had a very short period of time to wash up, I quickly used the toilet and washed whatever grime I could off with the sink water. My hair was such a tangled mess, I wasn’t even sure I could tame it, but with a little water, I was able to pull it into hasty braid.

I scowled when I realized I was wearing a tank top, displaying my bare shoulders. My tattoo was prominent across my skin. The ink itself had changed. The numbers were still heavily black and thick, but it was outlined in dark grey. Even the once-pristine Sokovian crest was blurred by the new color.

Did it get there because of what I went through? Is it part of the dark grey that overtook my body before I blacked out?

I cracked my knuckles and took a deep breath. Whatever survivalist thoughts spurred me to action, I ignored and forced them away. I didn’t need them right now. My brain needed to be clear and completely focused on the task at hand. Even if it meant giving up on escape for just a little while.

Rubbing my eyes to cajole the burning away, I exited the bathroom and allowed myself to be whisked away by the guards.

They kept my arms tightly behind my back. It was just below painful, but hard enough to be uncomfortable. The infiltrator part of me screamed to fight back, to take my stand.

But I’d been put in my place. I knew fully what was at stake.

They brought me to a another small room, this one with a treadmill and other exercise equipment. I stood, silent, as someone wearing a lab coat hooked electrodes onto my forehead and chest.

He had a receding hairline that made Strucker’s bald head seem like a reasonable fashion choice. I hated him from the get-go.

He made me run several kilometers at a brutally rapid place. My lungs started burning within the first few minutes, my muscles so unused to being used. My dormancy didn’t help at all.

But I was glad for the time to think. I certainly needed to mull the dream and Esper’s revelation. With each pound of my feet, my thoughts stretched and settled into a tangible order. I could comprehend what needed to be done next.

After about 15 kilometers, the scientist pulled me off and led me into several sets of calisthenics. Just like when I exercised in the snow, it was a brutal pace set by someone who obviously didn’t exercise, but I was able to manage it.

After at least an hour, he told me to stretch and catch my breath. I did so gratefully, massaging my cramping calves and shoulders

“Everything seems normal,” he said. “Temperature, oxygen intake. Your body has rebounded surprisingly well.”

I rubbed my thumb over my palm and cracked all the joints. Each pop made the scientist wince.

“Would you stop that?”

Glaring at him, I continued. I had just been strapped in place for days on end. My bones desperately needed to be reacquainted with the rest of my body.

“Very well. Your training with the twins begins now.” He snapped and the guards heaved me to my feet.

They held me just as tightly as earlier, my wrists nearly crunched under the pressure. Scowling at every thing that came into view, I forced myself to not punch the living daylights out of them. My personal space was not one to be violated.

The hall was dark and arched, flickering fluorescent lights swinging slightly in an absent breeze. Each sway caused shadows to shift and multiply in a sickening pattern. Nausea rose just looking at them.

Wait, why did shifting lights make me nauseous? I wasn’t normally motion sick.

I squinted upwards. My frown evaporated when I saw a shadow move against the beams of light and towards us. I jerked unconsciously against the guards and they tightened their grips. I didn’t dare ask if they saw it.

I wasn’t even sure if I saw it.

My body might not have been intoxicated as it once was, but no doubt I still had something other than blood in my veins. If the visions told me anything. . .

We marched on and towards the heavy, iron door I recognized from my single session with the twins. They led me inside and I was taken aback to see the once large and empty ballroom with equipment and men fighting.

Soldiers were stripped down to their fatigues were sparring in chalk-drawn circles. Though covered in sweat, they battered and swung at each other. Their forms were poor and technique weak, but they certainly had the power behind their fists that I lacked. Some lifted weights or jabbed at punching bags.

When the door creaked open, all halted momentarily to stare at me. Their eyes were filled with frosty hatred. Several sported black eyes and bruised jaws. I adverted by gaze as I was yanked in a haphazard weave between all the men. I was hyper-aware that, being the only girl in the room, there was no possible way to fight out of this one.

I dropped my chin to my chest and stared resolutely at the ground, refusing to appear as a threat to any of these men. Eye contact may be taken as rebellion. The air hung heavy with sweat and muttered curses as I passed. My usually light footfalls thudded against the floor in an offbeat tandem with my heartbeat. Swallowing, I dug my fingernails deep into my palms.

I heard a small gasp come from the other side of the room. My head jerked up to see Wanda and Pietro. They were drenched in sweat. Wanda's ponytail was limp while Pietro's muss of hair was less springy than normal.

He bolted over, bringing a burst of wind as he halted in front of me, hazy tendrils tracking his movements. My surprise was mirrored in his as he studied me intently.

"What did they do to you, Melina?" he said huskily. Every emotion he felt was as plain as day on his face: hatred, anger, fury. He looked as if he was about to punch the life out of the men holding me.

Shifting my gaze to behind Pietro, I watched as Wanda stalked towards us, fists burning red. Soldiers around her subconsciously stepped back, exchanging worried glances. I could help but feel glad she was one my side -- or at least she liked me.

I glanced over my shoulder to one of the soldiers. "You might want to let me go. As bad as it is to have one Maximoff twin set off on you, I don't think you could handle two."

They took barely a second to consider before dropping my arms and stepping away.

Pietro wrapped me in a hug the second I was free, burying his face in my hair and squeezing my body close to his. I hadn't realized I was shaking until I was in his arms.

"You're okay," he breathed in my ear. "You're okay. We're together now. We're here."

I buried my face in his shoulder and inhaled butterscotch beneath all the grime. For now, I was safe. I was okay. The twins would never let anything hurt me, no matter the cost to themselves. I realized that now.

Even if everyone in this room was staring at us, I was home and with the people I loved best.

Pietro released me and held me by my shoulders and glared deep into my eyes. "I'll ask again, what did they do to you?"

In response, my throat tightened from suppressed cries. I screamed at myself that now was not the time to give into my desperately churning emotions, but it was already too late.

I placed hands over my face to hide my tears. Even though it felt like I had cried myself dry a day ago, I couldn't help the sobs that echoed through my body. I was just so tired, so done fighting for a goal that seemed so far away.

Pietro's arms went around me again and I folded into him. I buried my face into his jacket, my tears and snot to pouring all over it. He didn't try to comfort me, whisper that I need to be strong and hold on. He was just there, giving me silent support. I was eternally grateful for that.

After a long while, my breaths evened out and I was able to regain control of myself again. "Thanks," I whispered, pulling away. "It's been a long week."

"No doubt." His eyes were kind as he brushed the last of my tears away.

I turned to Wanda, her fury burning as bright and potent as an ember. Her fists were still clenched.

"Wanda, I'm fine. . . I just needed to let it out. I promise."

Scowling, she stared down any soldiers who dared to judge me. Though I was grateful for her defense, just being close to her wrath made me shrink into myself. I felt like a wounded cub being protected by a mighty lioness. Her face was even scrunched like a snarling cat.

"ATTENTION!"

Every man snapped into pencil-straight posture as a hulking man burst through the doors. The very fabric of his jacket was drawn tight against his ginormous muscles. A large pistol swung from his belt and tapped with each of his long strides. His dark sandy skin was cast in patterned shadows from the chandeliers above.

I gulped just looking at him. There was no way I could take him down on my own.

"Jahandar," Wanda hissed, "I thought he was shipped out when DC fell."

"That was a month ago, maybe he came back," PIetro said, folding his arms.

I blinked as Pietro's words sunk in. I'd been in the fortress an entire month? No wonder I looked so different, so hollow. A breeze brushed against my arm and goosebumps multiplied across my skin.

“I need to be worried, don’t I?” I whispered as the hulking man came barreling towards us.

“Watch the gun,” Wanda said, “he has a history of shooting at people he doesn’t get along with.”

I bit my lip. I had a feeling he was going to hate me.

The man practically sprinted at us, drawing the gun from his holster in a swift movement. He held it like others would hold a billy club: with strength and confidence. There was no doubt he knew how to use it.

Watching the other soldiers stiffen even more as he passed by, I shifted into a defensive stance and readied to run. If such a deadly force was worried, than this new player was not a good sign.

Without a word, he raised his gun and fired at my chest. I was tucking myself into a roll before he even pulled the trigger. My boots slammed into the floor as I exited the tumble. I scrambled to my feet. My breath caught in my throat as I met the man's

Pietro and Wanda were frozen, their shocked stares following me. I silently pleaded for them to help, but they looked too stunned to do anything. Then, I noticed the soldiers standing behind them, burying tranquilizers in their necks. Their eyes became more dazed and faraway.

My friends would be of no help to me.

Inwardly cursing, I turned back to my new adversary, sizing him up. No doubt he had a physicality that could easily take my ravaged body. One punch from him and I could go flying across the room. Not to mention, he had a gun. I didn't.

Even if I tried to get one off one of the men, I knew Strucker would make me pay for it. My friends weren't in a position to help, though I had no idea why.

My only chance of surviving was to beat him in a fistfight. No guns. Which meant I had to challenge him. I squeezed my eyes shut to muster courage. This was so not going to end well.

I set my jaw and forced the defiant words from my mouth. "If you want to take me out, I want you to do it face to face, no guns. Fight like the general you are, not someone who lets bullets speak for him."

His expression did not change as I issued the challenge. The smoking gun did not waver from my chest and his forefinger never left the trigger.

"Look," I said, resisting the urge to fiddle with my braid from nerves, "I just spent the last week unconscious and coughing up blood. I'd rather not be shot at and have to fight for my life. Let me train the twins like I'm supposed to and I swear I won't be a problem."

"A pity, since you've continued to be one ever since you arrived here." His voice was thick with a rich Iranian accent. "All you've done is waste time and resources. I'm done having you as a liability here."

He pressed down on the trigger.

"Wait!" I threw up my hands. It wasn't until the word exited my mouth that I realized I spoke Farsai out of desperation.

He froze, clearly not expecting me to say anything in his native tongue.

I only knew a few words in the language, but I was glad that particular one jumped from my mouth. Though I was more familiar with Arabic, my run-ins with the Mist encouraged me to learn more about their culture and languages. Farsi, or Persian, was many's native tongue in the country.

I'd hedged my bets speaking it, but apparently, I'd guessed right.

I switched to my stilted Arabic. "Please, wait." My tongue was clumsy around the rolling constants. Yet I kept speaking out of pure fear. "I understand why you kill me. But I can be useful. I fight. I speak languages. I spy for you."

His head listed as his golden eyes studied my face with an intensity that made my chest constrict. He focused on the Sokovian crest under my collarbone. His face lost some of its edge as the gun lowered a fraction.

"We fight in the ring," he said after a weighty moment, shoving the gun back in his holster. "Then we shall see if you die by my hands now, or later."

I swallowed and followed him to the nearest chalk circle. He took off his jacket and belt and handed them to the nearest soldier, his eyes never leaving mine. He popped all of his knuckles in quick succession and waited.

I stretched, forcing my muscles to warm up. As I bent over to stretch my calves, I closed my eyes and forced myself to take a deep breath. Thoughts emptied my mind except for one: I must win. I had to. Otherwise, my life was forfeit.

Straightening, I raised my fists and waited.

A soldier stepped up and handed me a roll of something white. When I took it, I realized it was boxing tape. This was going to be an all-out fight if he was giving me tape.

I took the looped side and wrapped it around the base of my thumb and went through wrapping each individual part of my hand. Once my fingers were properly fixed into place, I moved onto the next hand. I finished it much quicker and more mechanically, the muscle memory coming back.

I tossed the tape outside the circle and flexed my fingers withing the material.

My opponent nodded and sized up across from me, crouching into a waiting stance. "It's time to see if you are as good as Strucker has been telling me you are." The smallest of smiles softened his expression. "Or, if the Mist was also right about you."

I blinked and refused to allow myself to be taken aback by that last sentence. I had to focus. Hiking in a readying breath, I charged at him and threw my first punch.

He dodged it and socked hard me in ribs. I recovered by swinging my weight back and putting distance between us. Already, I could feel it beginning to bruise. We circled each other, waiting for the next move. I kept my fists high and ready to lash out.

There was a little respect in his nod. I could tell the fight was just beginning.

"Give me all you got, little shadow fox."

\- -

Just a quick note today — I made a Pinterest board of aesthetics for each of the characters: what I imagine they look like, quotes that describe them, etc. So, if you would like, you can check that out here: pin.it/4Iordyi

I hope you liked the chapter! Updates, as always, are on their way!


	10. The Dueling of the Operatives

I bit on the inside of my cheek until blood bloomed on my tongue.

He just called me little shadow fox.

No, no, no, no, no.

He couldn't be. He couldn't be the thing in my mind. He was an Iranian operative, not a powered human. I just knew he didn't have an ability. Was he a significant danger, yes. But he wasn't like Wanda or Pietro in that way.

There was no time to dwell on my thoughts. I snapped back into the moment as our circling grew closer and closer. Adrenaline sent electricity sparking across my skin as I waited for the initial move.

I doubted I would get an opening to attack, so I waited for him to hit first. I shuffled from side to side. My footsteps were soft against the floor as we mirrored one another's movements.

When he raised his fists, so did I. When he moved to the left, so did I. I was experienced enough to know that he had excellent form. I was most likely doomed but I couldn’t let that get in the way. 

I took in the circle of soldiers around us, their boottips pressed against the chalk lines. Their faces were impassive, just like the boundary they created with their shoulders. Far behind them, the twins were unconscious on the floor. I couldn’t jump or fight my way through them.

“Always thinking of another option. Your infiltrator is showing, little shadow fox.”

I snapped my gaze back to my opponent.

With a clench of his jaw, I knew that I was done stalling. It was time to fight. If he didn’t come at me first, then it was my turn.

I rushed at him, ducking when he swung at my jaw and kicking his knee in. It didn’t do as much as give. My boot merely bounced off his leg.

He recovered and jabbed me on the jaw. It was hard enough to knock me to my knees. Tears sprang to my eyes and I let out a short cry. I knew he’d hard enough to leave a bruise, but not so hard to knock me unconscious.

This man really wanted a fight.

I staggered to my feet, rubbing my jaw and resuming my fighting position. I blinked away as many tears as I could. I put several paces of distance between us and tried to get my bearings back.

Huffing, I raised my fists again and stared him down. He was going to be the one to make the first move. I definitely wasn’t trying that again.

Readjusting his stance, my opponent narrowed in on me. He sent a fist towards my diaphragm. I blocked it and threw my own punch into his stomach. It was if I hit stone for how successful it was.

Then he began a ferocious attack. Punch after punch, kick after devastating kick. Most I was able to block, but a few tore through my defense. I received several attacks that were hard enough to bring painful tears to my eyes.

Each of his moves edged me further and further back. I soon felt the men holding the ring breathing down my neck. I ducked when he threw the next punch so I could escape from the corner he was boxing me into.

I stumbled to the center of the ring. Breathing hard, I brushed away the sweat leaking into my eyes.

My adversary didn’t even look fazed. Not a drop of sweat was to be found on his forehead. He had the audacity to look bored.

Part of me just wanted this all to be done already, but I knew he wasn’t going to let me have that choice. He was going to beat me, attack me until I was bloody, but he would leave me conscious unless I fought.

And I was going to fight.

I spit into my taped palm for luck, glad to see my spit wasn’t bloody. Yet.

Lightning fast, he was on me again, attempting to hit me in the throat to knock me out. I dodged and got behind him. With my bony elbow, I aimed for his kidneys and pounded on them.

He cried out and bent over to wrap his arms around his middle.

If I was being honest, I was surprised that worked.

I backed away and rested on the balls on my feet, waiting for him to recover. It took a few seconds, but once he righted himself, he charged and bashed me on the cheek. My head snapped to the side and a tooth shattered under the force.

I spat out what debris I could from my mouth before squaring up again. Ignoring the pain that ignited across my jaw, I focused back on my opponent.

I socked him on the eye and kicked him. He was close enough to sweep my leg aside and catch my arm. He held it in such a way that he could break it with a swift knee to my elbow. He jolted my shoulder just to let me know how close he was to finishing it.

Crying out, I attempted to break loose, but he was too strong. His grip too tight.

After a beat, he let go and backed away. Even though he didn’t speak, I knew exactly what he meant: again.

I gritted my teeth. Then immediately loosened my jaw when I remembered my broken tooth. My cheek was aflame in pain, but I ignored that as well.

If he wanted us to go again, then so be it.

We charged at each other once more and we began a long exchanges of moves and countermoves. Bashes and blocks. I landed more hits this time around, finally punching through his armor.

We fought until our knuckles were bloody and sweat stung our fresh wounds.

His punches were always hard enough to hurt, to leave me breathless, but not hard enough to knock me out. I returned the favor only because I need to save my strength for the next round of blows.

Though I was obviously experienced the worst of the fight, I was still able to land some decent hits.

We went back and forth again and again, until all I was able to feel was the absolute ache in every part of me and the dogged determination that comes with trying to stay alive.

A subconscious part of me wondered if this is what Captain America felt like when taking down HYDRA in DC. Did he feel just as exhausted as I did?

I was uncertain of how much time had passed. I lost track of the grunts and cries that escaped. I forgot just how many times I was punched to my knees and forced myself to get back up again.

After a particularly bad clash where he hit me in the throat, I was left on all fours on the ground, spitting for breath as tears leaked out of my eyes. Blood filled my nostrils and mouth but I couldn’t do anything to dislodge the taste.

I couldn’t get back up again. I tried and I tried, but my body was done. It was too bruised and broken to continue.

“Enough,” someone rumbled.

Through my hazy thoughts I was able to realize it was the Iranian himself. He was speaking in my native tongue, albeit heavily accented. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the sluggishness of my brain.

Glancing up, I saw the man fold his arms over his impressive chest and stare at me with the same intensity as when we were fighting.

“You were definitely trained by your father, Angelova. You use the same moves and are efficient in everything you do. Though, you’re much more led by your emotions than he ever was. He knew how to block them out. You have yet to learn the skill.”

He fought my father? I blinked as I realized that wasn’t even a surprise to me anymore. With the whole ‘Esper might have read my mind’ and my opponent calling me ‘little shadow fox,’ I’d been tapped out for being taken by surprise today.

“What does it matter?” I wheezed, hanging my head in defeat. “You’re about to kill me anyways.”

His footsteps stopped in front of me. “Up, little shadow fox.” He had switched to Arabic and his tone was much softer. “You have much fight still left in you. I’m here to help you survive this.”

He literally just punched me into the ground. I don’t know what his definition of help was, but it certainly wasn’t mine.

I glanced up to see him holding out a hand to help me up. With shaking fingers, I wrapped my hand around his wrist and he heaved me to my feet.

“My cousin was right,” he whispered in my ear as he helped right me. “You have much fighting spirit in you. I know your father would be proud to have seen it.”

I coughed, partially out of surprise. Dad? Proud of me? He didn’t know my father at all. Dad didn’t have any emotions except resolution and sourness. There was no in between. He loved Mom, but he pushed me until I broke over and over again.

I didn’t know it at the time. I’d loved him more than my own life, but hindsight was twenty-twenty. Maybe it was simply the way he loved, but I sure didn’t appreciate it.

I blinked away the memories to stare at the face of a man who had just beat me to a pulp. He seemed to genuinely in believe what he had said. How different from the people I’d been interacting with for the past month. He seemed . . . honest.

So, then why was his definition of help to threaten to kill me and then to nearly knock me unconscious in a fight? If that was his version of help, I didn’t want it.

Whether he knew of my internal dialogue or not, he slung one of my arms over his shoulders and helped me limp out of the ring.

I still struggled for breath and every part of me hurt, but I was alive.

The soldiers parted to let us through and they looked none-too-happy about it. I supposed they really wanted me to have been knocked out. Stumbling, I groaned when my jaw rattled. That tooth hurt like—

“Angelova, you really can’t stay out of trouble.”

My head snapped up to see Esper standing over the twins, who were beginning to stir. His expression, though cold and emotionless, had a certain turmoil to it. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he seemed absolutely overwrought.

Shuddering, I ran my free hand across my bruised jaw. “Unfortunately, I believe that’s true.”

I was gently lowered to the ground and propped up against a punching bag. I sagged against it. My chin hit my chest as I continued to recover my breath.

“Why did you do this?” Esper questioned my opponent with barely concealed anger. “She is valuable to Strucker and she needs to be intact for her training with him later. You were not supposed to beat her into a bloody pulp!”

“You’re getting defensive over a test subject, Esper. Have you forgotten how to separate your feelings from what must be done?”

“Of course not.”

“Then stop acting concerned for a liability and stitch her up. I know I broke a tooth and there might be some internal bleeding.”

Esper hiked in an annoyed breath as he knelt beside me. I groaned when I saw a syringe in his hand. This time, it was a pale turquoise. At least if I went unconscious with this one, it would be a pretty serum going in my body.

What was I thinking? I didn’t know what it was, yet I was glad it was pretty? My brain really must be addled.

Esper found the soft space between my neck and jaw to insert the needle. I barely winced as he slid it in. With a squeeze, he poured the liquid into me.

Once done, he backed away enough to look at my whole face. He ran a thumb over my swollen jaw and cheekbone, his eyes narrowed.

“The serum will take a few minutes to sweep through your system. Any internal bleeding will stop and your bruises will disappear. But they’ll be replaced by faint scarring.”

I didn’t have to time to protest as needles multiplied across my skin. A groan escaped without my consent as I shifted to find a comfortable position. Unfortunately, there wasn’t one. Knives dug from the inside of my body to the outside. It began to be pure agony as I trembled.

Esper was staring at his watch as the seconds ticked by.“It’ll take a few minutes,” he said when he noticed me watching him.

I grimaced and squeezed my eyes shut against the pain. The next little while felt like hours of agony. I couldn’t do anything but attempt to not writhe. What little dignity I’d preserved over the ordeal, I wanted to keep it.

Beside me, the Iranian was also sat down and injected with the serum. He fell to his knees as it began to take effect, his face crumpled in pain.

After a few minutes, the torment abated and I was able to breathe easily. It took a few moments of staring at the ceiling and breathing in deep for my head to stop spinning.

I glanced down at my hands. They were still wrapped in white tape. I bit off a strand and began unspooling them. I was amazed to see them less beat up than I imagined. They were much less stiff and more relaxed than they had been for awhile.

Flexing my fingers, I was grateful to have them unhindered again. Scars now dotted my hands in haphazard pale lines, just a shade lighter than my skin. I held up my arm to see every wound I have ever gotten marked across my body.

I reached up to feel my face. It wasn’t swollen anymore, but my tooth still winced underneath the touch.

“What happens to the tooth?”

Esper scowled. “It didn’t fix itself immediately? Then I’m going to have to pull it.”

I touched my tongue to the cracked bone and winced when it immediately sparked in pain. “Could you punch it out or something?”

Pulling out a pair of pliers from his lab coat, Esper shuffled towards me. “I’ll make it quick.”

That was not reassuring.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to scream through the next few moments of pain. Esper pulled out the broken tooth with the pliers and blood flooded on my tongue. I ended up spitting globs from my mouth. Seconds later, a new tooth sprung in the gaping hole just as if it had never left.

It was tender, but definitely real. I worked my jaw several times to test it. Everything still tasted metallic, like rusted iron.

Esper nodded approvingly. “Glad to see the serum working correctly.”

“You put it in me not know if it would work?” I gaped at him.

“You were the one who thawed thirty times quicker than anyone else,” he shrugged. “It was your own body that decided to be the uncertain variable here.”

“I hate you.”

“Surprisingly, I get that a lot.”

I rolled my eyes. “I wonder why. You’re so darn loveable.”

He either grimaced or smiled as he turned away to check on my Iranian friend. It was so odd how much of a walking contradiction he was. I wondered if all Americans were like him.

Though I desperately wanted to call out to ask him about this morning, I let him go. I knew this wasn’t the place nor the time. We were too exposed here

I collapsed against the punching bag. Each of my vertebrae cracked in succession against the inflexible material. It felt so good to rest.

“Melina!”

I snapped up, ready for a fight, only to see Wanda starting from her unconscious state to scramble to her feet. Her movements were sluggish as she tried to make it over to the chalk ring.

She froze when realizing the crowd had abated. Her gaze flickered over to me.

“Yes?” I asked, listing my head.

“Don’t fight, you’re going to lose?” she blinked, confused.

“Are you kidding, I totally won.”

She snorted and walked over to sit next to me. “There’s not a scratch on you. You must have won.”

“Look,” I gestured over to my opponent nearly toppled over from pain. “I felled him with one blow.”

She grasped my outstretched hand and examined the newly imprinted scars, rubbing her thumb over them. “These are new.”

Her nail polish was chipped and I couldn’t help but think that even the bewitching Wanda had her flaws. I examined the rest of her nails.

“Do your nails turn red when you start using your ability?”

“What?” she blinked at the sudden change in subject.

“Well do they?”

“No. That’s the reason for the nail polish. Mel, are you doing alright?”

“Do I look alright?”

“Not at all.”

I sighed, “Good, I didn’t want to give you a false impression that I was okay.”

Wanda squeezed my a hand as she glanced over at her twin. He was still sprawled on the floor and I could have sworn drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth.

Snorting, she gathered crimson around her fingers and sent it spiraling towards him. When it broke over the crown of his head, he jerked and bolted upwards. With the back of his sleeve, he wiped at the corner of his mouth while his expression turned sheepish.

“How long was I out?”

Wanda and I smirked.

The faintest bit of pink touched his cheeks. He ran his fingers through his tangled waves, trying not to meet our eyes.

“ANGELOVA!” Strucker practically screamed my name as he entered the hall.

The doors he slammed open shook on their hinges as he pounded them open. His hands were curled into tight fists. Every line of his face and posture screamed rage.

“Uh-oh,” Wanda whispered, “what did you do?”

What haven’t I done? But since our last talk, I followed every order I was given to the letter. What could he possible fault me for?

From his expression, apparently quite a lot.

He stalked dangerously until he was a few feet from me. “What did you do?”

“What?”

“I’ll ask only one more time: what. Did. You. Do.”

I heaved myself up so I could look him straight in his bespectacled eye. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His head snapped over to the Iranian. “On your feet. Now.”

My opponent staggered upwards, a hand on his ribs. “Good to see you, too, Strucker.”

“She called you back here. How?”

“Angelova didn’t even knew I existed until we sparred. She had nothing to do with my return. I chose to leave just as I chose to come back.”

Strucker stepped up and stared deep into the Iranian’s eyes. “HYDRA does not accept insubordination. You left and returned in your own free will. The only acceptable outcome is to terminate you and be done with your tricks, Jahanadar.”

Strucker reached for his knife, but the Iranian already strangled him in a chokehold. The air was tense as the scientist tried to break out of the operative’s hold on his throat.

Finally, Jahanadar leaned in and whispered something in Strucker’s ear. And from the tone, it was a threat he would have no issues following up on.

The Iranian glanced up at me and gave me a firm nod. In Arabic he said, “I watch your back, little shadow fox, you watch mine.”

I found myself nodding back hesitantly.

“Excellent.” He released Strucker and made his way over a man holding his belt and jacket. “I shall resume my duties and report to you this evening.”

Strucker’s jaw worked over an insult no doubt he wanted to hurl at the man. Oblivious, or just ignoring the scientist, Jahanadar walked over to a small group of soldiers and began leading them through a drill.

Blinking, I struggled to comprehend everything that had just occurred in rapid-fire succession. My brain was awhirl trying process how I might use this information. I stored it away for later as I focused back on the livid Strucker.

He was still glaring at the wall. After a few moments, he turned to me. “Your training begins with me now, Miss Angelova. There is much we must learn from each other if we are to survive this new threat.”

I glanced worriedly at the twins. Both of them refused to meet my eyes.

Strucker turned to a few guards. “Make sure the twins are in time for their check-ups. I would hate for them to be late for the next installment.”

Installment? I opened my mouth to ask the question, but Pietro shook his head ever so slightly to warn me off. He still didn’t meet my eyes.

I dug my hands into my pockets to form them into determined fists. I’d survived so much. I could handle being alone with Strucker. At the very least, I might get a shot at taking him down. Now that I knew I could hold my own in a fight, even with the knife, I could take him out. I would just have to chose my time wisely—

“Careful, Miss Angelova,” Strucker tutted at me. “When your face goes that stone-cold, it’s easy to tell you’re up to something.”

I flickered my gaze from the far wall back to the scientist. I could be really hard to read when I wanted to, but I had no idea my face when stone-cold when I was thinking up plans.

Behind Strucker, Esper mouthed, See? You do have a plotting face.

I scowled at him before contritely folding my arms behind my back. I couldn’t let this ruffle me. I needed to focus.

Following Strucker out of the ballroom, I brushed by Esper. “I do not have a plotting face,” I muttered.

“Do too,” he replied before turning away to the twins.

\- -


	11. The Restoring of the Infiltrator

I followed closely behind Strucker, but allowed a pace or two of distance between us when I could. I didn’t want to lag too far behind him for me to be labeled ‘insubordinate’ but I sure didn’t want to be close to him.

If it wasn’t for the guards flanking us, I might have taken him on right there. I bit my lip, forcing that thought back. I didn’t need to be distracted—

My mind drifted back to the fight, to the general calling me little shadow fox and to the absolutely brutal way he tore apart my confidence before the even first punch was thrown.

Wait, when Jahanadar was critiquing my fight, he mentioned that ‘his cousin was right.’ What cousin? Did he have any family I had come in contact with during my time in Sokovian special ops?

Wait a minute. . . the Mist was Iranian and knew my fighting style quite well. She knew me quite well. That one time she called on me to bail her out, she said that at the first opportunity she would do anything to return the favor.

Which may have resulted in sending a HYDRA-affiliated cousin to help me.

How did she even know I was in trouble?

“What the—“ I said, dumbstruck.

“Anything you’d like to share, Miss Angelova?” Strucker asked partially turning around to glance at me. “It sounds as if you’ve made a breakthrough.”

“I just realized I’ve only eaten one meal here,” I replied after a believable enough pause. “Believe it or not, I’m starving. I really want a sirloin sandwich with a ton of butter. And maybe some mashed potatoes. And maybe one of my Mom’s yeast rolls.”

He grunted and turned back around.

Closing my eyes to mentally berate myself, I bit my lip to hold back any other words that might escape me. I really needed to learn how to hold my tongue. And apparently my expressions needed to be silenced as well.

Hunger and exhaustion made me sloppy and I needed to reign that back in. An operative always had the mission and its consequences forefront in mind. Never anything else.

But now that I was thinking of food, my stomach protested loudly. I placed my hand over it in a poor attempt to silenced its cries. A sirloin sandwich really did sound good right about now. . .

I felt a woosh of air blast past me. Stumbling to regain my balance from the current, I righted myself to find a small, unwrapped granola bar in my palm.

The icy blue tendrils raced by Strucker and down the hall, disappearing around a corner. The scientist muttered something about getting Pietro under control and just a manic needed some sort of regulation.

Though I was duly concerned for my friend, I was just grateful to have actual food.

It was still warm from his hand. With a guilty glance at the soldiers flanking me, I popped it in my mouth and bit down with gusto. It was dry and tasteless, but it was near heavenly to me. My first real food in a month and I ate it as if eating the finest of a king’s meal.

Though it stuck to my teeth with every chew, it practically melted on my tongue. The oat and cherry flavor replaced the blood still hovering in my mouth.

I was so intent on hurriedly chewing and not being caught caught that I wasn’t paying attention to where were or going or where we ended up.

All I registered was entering a nondescript door and having it slammed behind me. I started and glanced around as I swallowed the last bit of the bar.

It was a decent-sized room, filled with men hunched over benches and tablets. They were working on a variety of things. Some were debating over complex formulas while others pieced together complicated looking machinery. One man was even testing weapon strength against a steel wall.

Whether they were engaged in a task or not, they ignored the two of us as we entered; instead, they focused even more completely on the work in front of them. As if burying their head in sand would protect them from the threat that was Strucker.

My nervous hands found the dead ends of my braid and twirled them around my fingers as I studied the room. No possible exits except the one I had just entered. No windows, just fluorescent lights overhead.

I raised my chin to look at them. Narrowing my eyes, I tried to see if any of the shadows moved again. If they did, I wasn’t sure what I would do, but at least I would know it was there.

Whatever it was.

Biting on the inside of my cheek, I turned back to Strucker who was watching me with cold calculation.

“Find anything interesting in the rafters, Miss Angelova?”

“No.”

“Pity. Let me know if you do.”

He paced to an empty table and sat in a high-backed chair. He placed his elbows in the table and propped his chin on his fists.

“When you’re ready, then,” he said.

I frowned and walked over to the seemingly empty table. When I reached its side, I realized it wasn’t empty after all. The entire thing was covered in a sheet of thick, black paper. I touched the edge and it suddenly came alive.

Light burst from my touch to be drawn in lines all across it. Some were completely straight while others curved gently from one part of the paper to another. Several lines were parallel from one another while others intersected and changed direction in haphazard patterns.

I listed my head and studied the design. After a few moments, I understood. The whole compound was laid out in front of me in a glowing blueprint.

I rested on my arms as I studied the entire map with curious eyes. It was just as big as I expected, but the multilayered architectural design made it hard for its fortification. Too many men would be needed to cover all areas of the base.

In front of me, Strucker tapped on the surface twice and the format became 3D in semi-transparent lines, a hologram hovering above the tabletop. I’d seen things like it on TV, but at never expected it to be right in front of me.

Even the topography of the land surrounding the fortress was illuminated, with scattered battlements hidden underneath a dense tree covering. Patrolling troops were stalking the grounds in groups of two to three.

All in all, it was curious to see my prison laid out in front of me in such a clear stats.

“Why are you showing me this?” I raised my head to look at Strucker. “You do know I can use this information for my benefit, right?”

“Exactly. That’s why you cooperate, because I have something you treasure: the life of your mother.”

Clenching my jaw, I said, “What do you want me to do?”

“Take the fortress down. How would you bypass the guards and seize the heart of this castle if it was just you and you were fully armed?”

I wanted to ask why, but something told me I’d better hold my tongue.

I folded my arms over my chest and studied the design. There was the obvious ways in: small nooks and windows I could squeeze into, but how could I get past the outposts around it?

That wouldn’t do. I was sure Strucker had already planned for that kind of thinking.

I held my hand out and used the fingers to zoom in the hologram so that it was much bigger. The windows were barred and electrified just like when I was trying to find the way in earlier.

Time to rethink. I tapped the paper and everything zoomed back out again. I placed my chin on a fist as I studied it. Its weaknesses were few, but those that did exist I could exploit easily.

With only a small backpack of supplies, I would be small enough to be missed by searchlights or large patrols, but the small, two-man groups would be hard to avoid undetected.

I could make it to the front door with no problem, but beyond that. . . I needed to think.

I wrapped my knuckles against my temple as I stared at the hovering image. Night wouldn’t be a good time to ambush the place. There would be too many liabilities and uncertainties under the cover of darkness. Most likely, Strucker would have a ton of guards patrolling anyways.

Daytime would be the best bet, timing-wise. They would be bored, cold, and unfocused. The most elite of them would most likely be inside and training in the ballroom.

What time was just there? About eleven or so?

Then that would be the best time.

I tapped on the tabletop and a clock appeared underneath my fingertips. I rotated the arms around the face until it was eleven o’clock exactly. The guards moved into the positions they would be holding at that time. They were scattered and easily avoidable. All I had to do was time it correctly.

And know where I was going to enter.

Humming, I stared at the entrance gate. Heavily fortified and manned, it would be difficult trying to scale it unnoticed but with enough of a distraction, such as a large truck entering the compound. The soldiers would be so busy checking it’s registries that they would miss me sneaking in.

But, I didn’t know about transports coming in. I’d been trapped in here for so long, yet I didn’t know how the overall base functioned.

I glanced over at Strucker to see if he was impatient, but he blinked back calmly. Silently, he gestured for me to keep working. His blank face reminded me of a man gambling: resolute and tired but with just enough determination to stay at the table.

I stepped away and placed my chin on my hand. Drumming my fingers on my jaw, I traced the outline of the hologram with my gaze. So many entry points, yet in actuality, few I could actually squeeze through without being noticed.

“What are my resources?” I lifted my chin to glance at Strucker. “I don’t want to be accused of cheating again.”

“If it can’t fit in a backpack, then it’s not available to you.”

That ruled out a crowbar, then.

But maybe I could find a small enough one. . . I would need gloves, a screwdriver, some tape, a hair tie, and maybe even some glue. I definitely would need glue.

My brain continued to make and add to a list of supplies growing in my head. All in all, I had about twenty or thirty items stacked up.

Now all I needed was a way in.

Strucker cleared his throat. “It’s been an hour, Angelova.”

“Okay,” I replied, not shifting my gaze from the fortress.

“As fascinating as it is to watch you stare at a hologram, I do have other things to do.”

“You want this done right, you give me time. An infiltrator doesn’t rush things. The plan won’t be complete unless I spend time working out the details and contingencies. You want me to do this right, get me a pad of paper and a pencil.”

He didn’t move; instead fastening me with a frozen look.“You can write on the tabletop.”

With a tap, I brushed against the surface and a keypad popped under my fingertips. That would have helped awhile ago.

My brain settled out the plan as I typed it in an organized list, supplies listed at the top. The hazy plan in my brain narrowed into organized, clean steps that I could easily follow.

When I stepped away to survey the hologram again, I realized I had chewed my lip into a pulp. I ran my tongue over the bloody, cracked skin.

So many memories had come back with my return to infiltrator thinking. No matter how far down I stuffed those them, after everything that had happened, I couldn’t stop them from flooding back.

With one final glance over the plan, I turned to Strucker, “I’m done.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded hesitantly. The plan wasn’t flawless, but it had enough room for improvisation if need be. Give me enough time and I could make it work.

Strucker harrumphed thoughtfully then nodded. “We’ll have the backpack ready in the morning with the plan printed out for you.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I suppose I failed to mention that you will be executing this plan tomorrow? The supplies you mentioned will all be available to you and nothing else.”

My mouth fell partially open as I stared at him.

“If it helps any, the only one who knows of this plan is you and I. The guards will not be on the lookout for you as you try to take this base down.”

“What is the point of this exercise?”

“If you can take down this fortress all on your own, then we have no chance if the Avengers figure out where we are. We need to heighten our defenses.

“You will be dropped three miles from the base early in the morning. A tracking device will be inserted into your arm to make sure you don’t run from this assignment.”

“What do I get if I do this?”

“A day off.”

I rubbed my temples. As with so many things that occurred in the last month, I didn’t really have a choice. A day of relaxation did sound absolutely wonderful. . .

Narrowing my eyes at the hologram, I ran through the plan over again in my mind. My stamina was almost shot from this morning and it would be incredibly difficult to keep up. But the serum had worked wonders; I was barely stiff. Theoretically, I could do it with my eyes closed, even though it had been years since I put my body to work like this.

All of this was a horrible idea. But I was going to do it anyways. What else was I a teenager for except for reckless abandon?

“Okay, I’m in. But I need a change of clothes.”

\- -

Hey everyone!

Okay, I know this was a super short chapter compared to the others, but I promise there was a reason. Obviously, there is something being built up and I can’t fit that all into a singular chapter with the build up.

The next one is going to be longer than most others and it is going to be worth it, I promise!!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I can’t wait until I can hear what you think of the next!

You, my loyal readers, are the reason I do this, so thank you thank you thank you!! <3

\- Sonder74


	12. The Animating of the Shadow

I hunched against the car seat, nervously pulling on the edges of my gloves and hiking them higher on my wrists.

This was it. Time to prove that I was the infiltrator Dad made me to be. My last attempt at taking something down, whether it be an organization or a government, was several years ago and I was more than a little rusty. Sure, I could still think on my feet and adapt quickly. But this was different.

I had a feeling the HYDRA guards would shoot on sight, with little qualm to me being a girl or even a near-defenseless prisoner.

And since Strucker wanted this as realistic as possible for his guardsmen, I doubted they knew it was all a drill, not an Avenger or SHIELD operative.

I glanced out the window at the rolling, snowy terrain. Trees bowed under a heavy layer of ice and frost. It was about one degree Celsius outside and I would be frozen within a couple hours if I didn’t move fast.

My new outfit was much like my infiltrator ones of long ago. The pants and jacket were light, durable, and would hold up to the strain I was about to put it under. I specifically asked for gloves this time. I didn’t need frozen hands on top of an aching body.

I’d been awoken roughly earlier in the morning and taken in for a small workout to get my muscles ready for the day’s exertion. Like Strucker had said earlier, a tracking device was shot into my arm with a wicked looking needle.

Esper was the one who did it and he didn’t meet my eyes as he did so. He hadn’t said a word to me the whole time, which sent warning bells ringing in my head.

I was given my outfit and shuttled outdoors to a small car. The last twenty minutes were spent mentally preparing myself for the insanity ahead.

They hadn’t given me the backpack yet. Apparently, I wouldn’t see my tools until I was finally released into the wilderness.

The road was sloped and rocky, uneven with from little use. I kept finding myself gripping the door handle as we bounced along the road.

The driver next to me was silent and had been the entire trip. His eyes had been resolutely fixed on the road.

I chewed on my lip as we started to slow. The driver shuddered the car to a halt and launched out of the seat, heading to the trunk. I popped open my door and stepped out. The chill hit me in the face like a wall of freezing blast of air.

I zipped up my meager coat and flexed my fingers. I bent down to lace my boots even tighter, knowing the trek through the woods would really take it out of me.

The driver came along the side and handed me a small backpack. It was heavy and made my hands dip when I held it. Though I wanted to eagerly open it and discover its contents, I forced myself to bide my time.

He nodded at me before stepping back in the car. He zoomed away and I was covered in a blast of snow.

I made a disgusted noise in the back of my throat as I dusted myself off. The slush soaked through my lightweight clothes and settled on my skin to turn me even more numb.

Scowling, I knelt by my backpack and unzipped it. My expression cleared when I saw it’s contents. Everything I asked for was inside, but they were of the highest grade, far above the shodden Sokovian equipment.

The rope was steel fiber, glue instant set. The binoculars were like the ones I used earlier. They even included the two guns I asked for. A small slip of paper was tucked in a pocket.

“Yes!” I whispered in triumph, throwing the bag over a shoulder. This was my whole entire plan completely mapped out. At least I wasn’t completely winging it this time.

I took off into the woods and stayed parallel to the road. My boots sloughed through the near ankle-high snow as I trudged back to the castle.

It would have been easier to stay on the road, but I didn’t trust Strucker enough to not rig something up over night. He seemed like someone who would sabotage me even when he promised he wouldn’t. I was able to find reasonably clear paths, probably used by Strucker’s own soldiers as they travelled back and forth from the bunkers.

It took me at least an hour to hike back to where the fortress was in view. I huffed and puffed, but I felt a small amount of relief to finally be in position. Judging from the sun, it was about an hour until the right time.

I sagged into a mostly snowless log and dropped my backpack next to my boots. I dug through until I found the belt I requested, full of hooks and buckles to attach things to. I clasped it around my waist and began adding the binoculars, lock pick kit, and stun gun into their places.

My movements felt smooth and practiced, just like I had once done several years ago before a mission. I slipped my hand back in the bag to find the hair tie I requested earlier.

Pleased, I discarded my old, tattered one into the snow before shaking out my wispy braid into wavy tresses that fell around my shoulders. I raked my fingers through the tangles and allowed the breeze to gently catch and scatter my hair.

I brought my knees up to my chest, staring at the wisps of hair that brushed across my eyes.

Too long ago, Mom would have complained to see my hair loose, where a strand or two might have fallen into the pastries. I’d worn pigtails for years, just to satisfy her. Then, when I went on a mission, I always raked it back in a ponytail so that it was neatly out of the way.

I’d always been envious of the girls at school, mainly Wanda, who could wear their hair loose and free, never forced to keep it back.

Sure, I could have taken it out of the braids after baking and when I got to school, but at that point it was too frizzy to look decent uncoiled.

I smoothed the waves away from my face and across my shoulder so I could pick at the dead ends. The longer I stared at it, the more it seemed different. Blinking, I realized some of my hair had started to change color. The undertone was still light caramel, but a few were slowly turning silver.

Sighing, I turned my face to the sun and stuffed that train of thought away. I’d worry about that later.

It was nice to rest in the outdoors with hazy sunshine filtering in through the clouds, no expectations of fighting just yet.

Part of me debated collapsing back and making a snow angel. But I realized with a fully-equipped tool belt, that would be a bit idiotic.

Instead, I knelt and gathered icy snow into a small pile, rolling the parts into a small, medium, and large ball. I built a miniature snowman, taking care to give him small stone eyes and stick arms. He sagged a little to the side, but he was beautiful.

“Your name is Frederick,” I said to him.

The snow didn’t melt through the thick fabric of the gloves, which was a good sign going into a very labor-intensive task.

“I wonder,” I mumbled, hiking the gloves’ cuffs higher on my wrist as I looked at a decently-sized tree.

I walked over to the nearest tree and began climbing it like I once did as a child, quickly and without a spare thought to danger. My studded boots slammed into the slick bark as I edged my way up the trunk. The gloves stuck to the branches and held tight, even though a thin layer of ice coated the entire thing.

I heaved cloudy puffs as I raised myself higher and higher. Once I reached a raised enough place to satisfy myself, I allowed myself a rest and recovered my breath. My outfit was perfect for what I had planned. I had to be sure to test it before actually trying to attempt taking down the fortress.

I swung my feet slowly in the air as I stared at my entry point: a small door underneath the bridge that ran from the forest to the central building.

From my minimal research, it was well used in the evenings for shuttling food out to the soldiers on watch, but in the mid-mornings it was practically deserted except for the patrolling pair of guards on the road leading to it.

Currently, they were heading away from my entry point in quick, solid tandem. But because they currently were not a threat didn’t mean I could simply walk in undetected, either. Cameras lined the rooftop every few meters or so to monitor every available clearing close to the walls.

My first priority would be taking those down. I swept hair away from my mouth as I took it all in.

There was a small, grey box that connected power to all the cameras along this side of the building. Even from so far away, I could see the rubber-wrapped wires connecting each and every one of them.

I frowned. Since when could I see that well from this distance?

Shaking myself out of that thought, I unholstered the gun. It looked like a pistol, but the sights and range on it told another story. I pointed it at the ground and checked the mechanism.

When I was satisfied with the feel and handle of the pistol, I pointed it at the faraway box that became a little closer with the sights. Theoretically, this pistol could hit it easily, but then the path would be easy to track. My footprints in the snow would be a dead giveaway, too.

My plan was a singular mission, except that I needed one other person to fire this shot. It was a difficult one, even for the best of sharpshooters, what with the wind and it being a small target, but it could be done with enough motivation.

Unfortunately, the only idea that came to mind involved some chance and hope. And I didn’t have much hope to spare.

I had little enough to keep me moving and fighting.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I scuttled down the tree to my backpack. Before I dug into it, I raked my fingers through my tangled hair before braiding it once more.

Nodding to make sure the hair didn’t tug to tight, I dug deep into the backpack to find what I knew what there. I snatched the rope and glue before returning to the tree. I stared up between the branches to the gentle way they swayed and brushed against one another.

I pulled the rope taut in my hands before beginning the climb again.

\- -

Twenty minutes later, I’d finished and moved into my final position, being sure to pause and cover my tracks as best as I could.

I took up my waiting spot and hunched over my backpack leaning against my calf. My hand rested on its strap as I impatiently tapped my fingers against it. I was currently locked in a waiting game that I couldn’t predict even if I wanted to — I had to be ready to run at any moment.

Though I was down one gun, I had the other pistol in hand and ready to fire.

I rocked on my heels and snow crunched underfoot. I wanted to run, to get this blasted thing over with. Adrenaline rushed through my veins as my heart thundered in my chest. I knew the excitement could make me sloppy and I couldn’t afford mistakes.

Not today.

No sooner had those thoughts raced through my mind then a deafening crack exploded from my left. Without stopping to think, I took off and sprinted as if Loki himself was chasing me.

In my imagination, I looked like an Olympic runner, as I raced in perfect form and vaulted over obstacles that were in my way. In reality, I probably was running like the scared girl I was. My backpack bounced with every jump I took as I moved further and further away from the gun I had rigged up.

My feet pounded against the slick ground as I neared the door. The guards who had been patrolling that area were racing off towards the gunshot. Their mottled uniforms blended and disappeared into the landscape.

Just as I came in view of my target, I glanced up to see the fuse box blown, smoke curling out from a hole directly in its center. I smirked in relief as I tucked myself into the doorway to catch my breath. My hand found the keypad as I kept my eyes open for any approaching enemies.

I dialed in the numbers as my heart rushed in my ears. Unbeknownst to Strucker, I had pulled them up while making my plan yesterday.

The keypad beeped, the buttons flickered red.

I swore and pounded the door in frustration. It looked as if Strucker hadn’t been as impervious as I thought — or I wasn’t as sneaky as I wanted to have been.

I turned around again to make sure no one was behind me. So far, so clear. Spinning around again, I shoved the gun into its holster and pulled a knife from the tool-belt. I jabbed it into the side of the keypad, applying enough force to the handle that the edge popped off. I caught it and tucked it under my arm as I got to work on the tangle of wires.

Just like I had done with the earlier keypad, I found the right wires and manipulated them until the door hissed open.

I slapped the keypad cover back on before darting across the threshold as the door slammed shut. I leaned against it and allowed myself to take a deep, relieved breath. I wasn’t sure that would actually work. Now I had to move before anyone discovered my unusual entrance.

I stuffed the knife away, glancing from side to side in the long, dark hallways to be sure no one was currently in view. Swallowing dryly, I headed off to the left, reaching for the step-by-step plan Strucker had printed off for me.

It was on cheap paper and I winced every time it made any kind of noise. In special ops we had time to memorize the plan and objective completely, usually getting the initial plan a month out.

Dad had to sneak the plans to me so Mom wouldn’t notice and I had to make codenames such as zebra or telephone for all the technical stuff so if anyone overheard me talking about it, they wouldn’t know I was going over an incredibly important mission out loud so I could remember it.

But this time, I was without full confidence in my patchwork plan. What I was doing was stupid and reckless, yet here I was.

I gritted my teeth and dispelled the hapless thoughts, it would do me no good to lose my focus. Even as I thought that, slow footsteps echoed through the corridor. I bit the inside of my cheek as I softly padded over to the stairwell door.

Jiggling at the handle, I was thrilled to find it unlocked. Finally, something that goes according to plan!

I yanked it open only to find Esper blinking blankly at me, his hand hovering where the handle was a moment earlier. His mouth fell partially open.

I pushed him into the stairwell, slamming the door closed with my foot. Backing him up against the wall, I clapped a hand over his mouth as I furtively glanced around. He tried to struggle out of my grip but I held him too tightly.

I glared at him with fire in my eyes. “You will not yell for help. You will not make any loud noise to draw attention to us. Understood?”

Slowly, he nodded. I pulled my hand away, reaching for my gun.

“Geez, Angelova, you look different in those clothes,” he murmured. “You look a lot deadlier. And is that a step-by-step plan in your hand?” His tone lifted in amusement.

Growling in barely held back frustration, I shoved it in my belt. I didn’t have time for this. “You didn’t see me, okay? Tell no one I was here. If you have questions, ask Strucker. But not another soul.”

“What is going on, Angelova?” His voice dropped to an angry growl. He grabbed my upper arm and held me tightly, about to demand answers.

My training returned as soon as he touched me. I kicked in his knee, forgetting which one was the injured one in my haste. He grunted in muffled pain.

I forced back the apology rising in my throat. “Don’t touch me. Never without my consent and never when I’m on a mission.”

My eyes and face hardened into a cold mask of determination — my infiltrator quiet fury returning. Memories of my past life flashed behind my eyes in a single stream of painful event after another. So many fights and so many people touching me in the way that he just had.

Too many times I had been left bleeding and alone.

His eyes widened but he didn’t say a word.

“Now,” I said in a more amiable tone, “I have work to do and you can’t be in the way. Avoid the lower levels, for your own sake.”

Without a parting glance, I whisked away and barreled down the stairs, skipping steps in my haste. My hurried steps weren’t silent. At this point in the plan, silence and not being detected wasn’t my focus any longer.

Now quickness was the objective. I had several liabilities in play: the other, easily found gun, the broken keypad, and Esper. Just one could alert the compound that something was amiss and shut everything down.

I couldn’t afford that..

My backpack bounced against my hip as I unslung it onto my arm. My destination was several levels down and I had little time to get there. The gun was heavy and warm in my hand, my sweaty palm sticking to the handle no matter how I adjusted it.

Each step I took down the cold stone steps, the temperature dropped one degree and soon I was shivering in the freezing, damp air. The gun rattled in my hand but I forced myself to keep still.

My breaths turned foggy as adrenaline raced through my system. Thoughts sharpened in my brain like solidifying icicles, lining up in perfect, tangible order. Get in, get the chip, get out and safely to a console on the other side of the building.

No sweat.

I skipped the last few steps to a large metal door. Inhaling the scent of mold, I wrapped my fingers around the handle to gather my breath. I tilted my head back and stuffed my emotions far down, becoming the steel soldier at my core.

Fixing a frozen cold expression in my face, I yanked the door open with such force the hinges squealed and reverberated as I threw it open. I stepped into a mildly warm room with only a few people going about their work.

They turned to me, eyes wide. I slammed the door shut and slid in the deadbolt. If someone wanted to get in this way, it would take an awful lot of force or Wanda to get through.

Raising my gun at the nearest man, I said, “I need to talk to Dr. Saunders. Which one of you is he?”

A short man with glasses cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Miss Angelova, I presume?”

I studied him. “Do you know why I’m here?”

“I believe so. But I would prefer you not to use force against me or any of these men. Maybe we could come to an understanding?”

I flicked my gaze over the room full of crates and uncovered weapons. Two of the five men could easily reach a recently assembled gun off the table or a knife from the bench. I didn’t want a shootout, someone was liable to get hurt — probably me.

But I couldn’t afford to not get that chip. I’d already come too far to turn away now.

Strucker never told me what the consequences of not completing this mission would turn out to be.

Slowly, I lowered the gun. “What do you have in mind?”

“I know Dr. Strucker is having you run this operation secretly, to best prepare our base for attack from the Avengers or other governments. But what I don’t know is why he thought a singular teenager could do it without help.”

I narrowed my eyes as he took a step closer.

“I can help you bypass guards and get to wherever you need to go as safely as you can. . .”

The rest of his words were lost on me as his shadow on the wall stepped away from him, becoming loose and of its own mind, like Peter Pan’s shadow. Everyone was staring nervously at me, so no one saw the anthropomorphic shape take on a life and form of its own.

It bowed towards me before pointing to the ceiling, more specifically, the flickering light casting a sickly glow across the room. Its hand turned into a gun and it mimed shooting at the lightbulb.

I blinked in comprehension as I turned my attention back to Saunders. “—for all those reasons, I believe it is best for you to listen to me.” His voice was as slick as oil and just as sticky.

There was no way I was trusting him with my safety.

I glanced behind Saunders’ shoulder to see the shadow grow glowing golden eyes and wink at me.

With that, I raised my gun and fired at the ceiling. Everything was thrown into pitch darkness. Somehow, I could still see reasonably fine, the only difference was that my eyes felt leaden.

The men started to shout directions at each other as I scrambled to figure a way out of this situation. Did I really just trust a shadow over a man?

Just as the thought crossed my mind, something warm and sticky was pressed down my glove and into my palm. Sharp edges dug into my palm as I cradled it.

“This is your prize for trusting me immediately, my little shadow fox,” a familiar voice hissed in my ear. “I’ll say one thing about you, you learn quickly. There is an exit on your left. And hurry. Other guards heard the gunshot.”

Without pausing to second guess, I clutched the still-warm metal in my hand and took off into the corridor, just like the phantom told me. My footsteps were soundless, even in my hurry. An infiltrator habit hard to break.

The next few turns I made brought me deeper and deeper into the web of the HYDRA fortress. I kept having the feeling of someone being right on my tail or right in front of me, yet everything was deserted.

I kept glancing to see if my shadow would take on a life of its own as well. Sadly, it stayed stride-for-stride with me, no more or less alive than usual.

I sprinted down hallway after hallway, occasionally fishing the plan to the forefront of my mind to make sure I remembered the path correctly. The lefts and rights soon blended together. Uncertain as I was, I knew I had to keep running.

My hand rested on my gun, ready to draw on a heartbeat’s notice. My heart pounded too loudly in my ears for me to make out if anyone was coming towards me. Twice, I nearly ran head-first into men barreling to the storage room. Both times, I barely missed them by tucking myself in a doorway or down another corridor.

So much for being able to do this with my eyes closed.

After the last time I had to hide myself, I stripped off the glove and examined the chip. Blood was stuck to it, dried crimson streaking my wrist and palm where it had rubbed against my skin.

I turned the small device over my fingers thoughtfully. With this, I could get anywhere in the compound with a bio scanner. But first I had to get to get out my hiding place.

Gritting my teeth, I tucked the chip in my belt and yanked the glove over my fingers. I bolted from the spot, my boots pounding against the ground. I barely avoided two men.

Refusing to think, I swung and kicked until they were collapsed on the floor. I refused to pull out my gun during the altercation. If I fired it, everyone would know where I was. Another thing I couldn’t afford.

I fought against the instinct that told me to run through the door on my left that led towards a back exit. Far ahead of me was the gleaming silver doors of an elevator. Practically flying through the hall, I scrabbled for the buttons.

Men’s boots sprinted towards me.

I slammed on the down button with my fist. “C’mon, c’mon!”

The elevator didn’t budge from the third floor.

Internally screaming my frustration, I dug the small crowbar from my bag and stuck it in the crack. I slammed my whole body weight against it and the doors slowly parted.

I stuffed the bar back away before entering the shaft. My feet hit the floor as I pushed the doors back into place. Everything plunged into darkness.

Blinking to get my eyes to focus, I glanced upwards at the elevator car stuck several stories above me. I sighed, exhausted, burying my face in my hands.

“Again you decide the dark corner is where you hide. You don’t have time for this, my little shadow fox.”

I snapped my head up to see the shadow again. It looked as if it was casually leaning against the wall, arms crossed over its chest.

“Thanks for your help earlier,” I said.

It sighed. “We don’t have time for dialogue. You need to get out of here before they close in.”

“And what do you expect me to do? I’m kinda out of options here.”

“Ask and you shall receive.” It waved a hand and a vent next to me popped open.

“You’re kidding. The movies may say that’s a quiet way to travel, but it’s not. Crawling around in vents is the loudest thing possible. I’ll be heard in a minute!”

“Ye of little faith. It’s an opening to a room with a console you’re looking for.”

I tilted my head. “What are you?”

A banging echoed up and down the shaft.

“Escape now, answers later.” With that, it disappeared into the darkness.

I took off my backpack and shoved it through the hole, following close behind it as I pushed it into the room. It fell with a loud crash and I followed soon after.

I tumbled head over heels onto a small couch. My head banged against the headrest. I muffled a cry as pain shot through my entire body in a split second. I wrapped a hand around my neck as I curled into the fetal position.

After a few second of breathing through my nose, I shook out the aches and stumbled to the small, cluttered desk in the room. There was a bio scanner next to the monitor.

I barred the door closed and moved the couch across it for extra protection. My bag was tumbled open and I scooped the contents back into it before collapsing into the roller chair.

Placing my gun next to the keyboard, I dug the chip out of my belt and held it up. There was a hairline crack along the side, but even through the blood it still registered and Dr. Evan Saunders. Welcome. popped up across the screen

With such a high entry clearance, I got to work dismantling HYDRA systems around the base. It was slow, meticulous work. My thoughts spun unhelpfully when I tried to hurry up the process.

I took down cameras, redirected the feeds to loop, and created a false alarm in the ballroom. If I could get most of the men in a localized area, I would be less worried about someone knocking the door in.

As those procedures started running, I pulled up hidden HYDRA files and started scanning their headings. Most were in German or in cryptic texts.

A few registered:

894673947 — super soldier serum. I’d come across that code number a few times in my special ops.

WDCHB — HYDRA base in Washington DC.

34713SSO — Sokovian Special Operative. 

Wait, that was my operative number.

Nervously, I double clicked it while making sure the other programs were still running smoothly.

The text box popped up, but a large red password-protected bubble blinked at me. Scowling, I closed the file and continued to scan through the hundreds of files readily available.

Note to self: if I was forced to do this again, get a higher clearance.

Glancing at the security cameras, I was pleased to realize most of the men had congregated in the ballroom. I hit a few keys and closed off air vents and doors around the area. With another few taps, I locked down all computers under Saunders’ clearance.

I couldn’t initiate full shut down, but it was almost more fun this way. It was a puzzle I could solve with enough perseverance and focus.

Technology wasn’t my strongest suit, but I wasn’t inept, either. I could continue to cause as much chaos and confusion as dared without being traced to this particular console.

I opened up another Sokovian operative file, this one being about all the operatives in history or still in play. This one actually opened and hundreds of pages started downloading onto the computer.

Of the ones that loaded, I started scrolling through the thousands of lines of text. Most was taken from the Sokovian manual handed to us before we went on our missions.

But, towards the end of the hundreds of leaves, there was a page with several red lines across the text. I narrowed my eyes and leaned in, studying what exactly HYDRA a decided to mark out.

When I realized what I read, I backed away, my mouth falling open. All the fallen agents in Sokovian history were laid out in front of me. In red over the text was the word terminated.

Dad’s name was the third last marked, the other names were people I had worked with. I didn’t even know they died. My breath came faster as I realized my name was the last on there.

The words in front of it made my heart race: beginning to convert.

A soft rustle echoed int the silent room. I grasped the gun next to my hand and whirled around, pointing it at the intruder.

Jahanadar stood behind me, his own gun aimed at my forehead. His finger rested lightly on the trigger, face impassive and unreadable. He looked much better than when I last saw him.

Part of me wondered how he got in without a sound, but most of me focused to see if he would make the first move.

“Nice try, little shadow fox. You got so close.”

With that, he pulled the trigger.

\- -


	13. The Following of the Shadows

There was nothing I could do.

In that split second of being alive or dead, all I could do was stare into the face of a man who spoke to me in Arabic and said we were more similar than different. He seemed like a potential ally when we fought.

The gun exploded in his hand, a burst of steam exiting it as the bullet hurtled towards me. Sound ricocheted in the small room, making the light above us shudder. My ear drums rang from the noise.

So why was he doing this?

My fingernails dug into the gun, but I refused to fire it. I’d lived my whole life without directly firing a gun on someone. I wasn’t about to start now.

Or, I guess, end my life by shooting someone.

Then my eyes narrowed. Too much time had passed between the moment he pulled the trigger. I should be dead by now. There was no way someone as talented as he could miss from this range.

So what was this death? Painless and immediate?

As these thoughts whirled around in my mind, Jahanadar backed away, stuffing his gun in a holster. He learned against the wall and folded arms over his impressive chest.

My mouth fell open. “It was a blank.”

His cold expression turned slightly smug. I wanted to see if his shadow moved or gave me any kind of indication what to do, but it was immobile and irritatingly still.

Behind me, the console beeped.

He nodded at it. “You might want to get that. It appears that the men in the ballroom are firing at the doors.”

Gritting my teeth against the swear I longed to scream at him, I swiveled back in my chair. I placed the gun in my lap as I engaged the fire sprinklers in the room. The water was freezing cold and uncomfortable, I made sure it wasn’t warm at all.

With a few more keystrokes, I flooded the vents across the building with air from the outside. Also frigid. Both of these factors would hopefully slow them down as they would be too numb to fight back.

In the ballroom, men were trying to find some sort of shelter against the downpour, their faces twisted in potent anger waiting to be unleashed on the person causing them such misery.

“The next time they see you, they’re going to rip you apart,” Jahanadar commented. “You made a lot of enemies today.”

What else is new? I glared at him over my shoulder. “Please, shut up. I’m trying to work.”

His shoulders lifted in an unconcerned shrug, arms still crossed. He wore tactical gear, much like my own, and his boots were deeply scuffed and covered in melting snow and mud. There was a backpack sitting next to mine that held materials eerily similar to what I had requested.

The pieces clicked together. “Strucker had you figure out a plan, too.”

“But somehow, my little shadow fox, you beat me here. I have to say, I’m impressed.”

I bit my lip. So many questions bubbled you in my mind, but I forced them all back. “While I finish this up, you better start filling me in on what’s going on.”

“And why would I do that?”

I waved my loaded gun at him.

He snorted. “All the bullets are blanks, or didn’t you know? Strucker didn’t dare give us actual guns because we might turn them on others and then ourselves.”

“Yeah, I figured he would do that,” I said, tapping away at the keyboard. “So that’s why I asked for tranq pistols. They’re still a deadly weapon in the hands of one of us.”

Frowning, the Iranian approached the back of the chair and leaned in, looking at the open tab of Sokovian Operatives. His muscles tensed as he scanned the document. His anger and frustration rose in potent waves.

Ignoring him, I logged in a few more directions. The server rooms sealed off and front gates went under red warning. If they wanted easy access out or in, they weren’t going to get it.

We were silent several minutes as I accomplished this. Systematically, I locked down each part of the whole compound, separating men from their units and patrolling pairs from one another.

Gnawing the inside of my cheek, I glanced at Jahanadar, whose jaw was clenched as he ran a finger under Dad’s name. Blood bloomed in my mouth the more he stared.

“Your father was a good man. He—“

I swiftly grabbed the gun and jabbed it in his neck. “Please, stop talking. I cannot deal with this right now. I have questions that I will need you to answer but not while I’m trying to lock down a HYRDA fortress. If you want to be useful, start consolidating our supplies.”

“How, particularly?” he asked calmly, as if the gun pointed at him meant nothing.

“Have us ready to go, separately. If we need to run, I don’t want to be dependent on what you’re carrying.”

He nodded and walked over to the bags, rifling through mine and pulling out the glue with a puzzled look on his face. “You would have done better to ask for rope instead of this.”

“I did,” I said. “I needed the glue and rope to build a mechanism that would fire off independently and give me enough time to enter the building.”

“So you’re the one that took out the cameras. That was nice shot.”

A corner of my mouth lifted. “Thanks.” Somehow his approval meant more to me than I cared to admit. I swallowed that part of me down as my focus drifted back to Dad’s name.

TERMINATED Ivan Angelova TERMINATED

Why did HYDRA have his death as ‘terminated’? He was killed in the field in the Middle East on a mission I had just returned from when I got the news. Wanda’s vision in the ballroom was exactly how it happened in real life. I got the star from Zemo, I fell to my knees, Mom began to blame me for his death.

From what I had heard, HYRDA wasn’t even close to involved in Sokovian Special Ops, maybe in the rest of the government, but certainly not Zemo’s division. I would have been notified discreetly if they had and I could make sure Mom and I were safely out of the way.

I knew why he was killed, but not who, how, or where. That element of not-knowing plunged me into deeper mounting because I wasn’t there for him. I should have been.

I could have protected him.

Maybe I even could have saved him.

Blinking away the sting in my eyes, I went back to monitoring the men in the ballroom and hallways near us. So far, it seemed as if we were in the clear.

I cleared my throat, breaking the prolonging silence. “Did you know the pistol was full of blanks when you shot at me?”

There was a soft chuckle from behind me. “You don’t miss much, my little shadow fox.”

“Stop calling me that,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “That’s not my name and that isn’t what I answer to.”

“Maybe you say that now. But it’s one of the shadows that follow you. From now on, you can’t get rid of it.”

I frowned. ‘Shadows that follow’ rang awfully familiar but I wasn’t sure from where. To be frank, that phrase didn’t even make sense. Why were the shadows following? What were they following?

“What?” I said after a moment’s consideration.

“I’ve always thought of our secrets as shadows,” Jahanadar said amicably. “The more you hide them in darkness, tucked away so they never see day, the more they multiply. They follow you until they are all but overwhelming. Like a night that cloaks you and smothers you until you can’t breathe.

“But the moment you shed light on them, they begin to shrink. They disappear when you allow them to come to the surface. It won’t happen unless you’re willing to let go of control.”

I bit my lip, allowing the whole concept to sink in. In a way, the metaphor made sense. But I couldn’t remember where I heard it before. Did Dad say it once?

“Our whole business is control,” I replied, opening oil valves in the hallways. “If you want to be shadow-free, as you say, we’re in the wrong business.”

He shrugged. “Some shadows are never meant to disappear, such as your nicknames: cameo, lischka, little shadow fox, you’ll never be able to outgrow them.”

That still left the question of how he knew of little shadow fox. But we would have to get into that another time. Men were breaking through the ballroom seal and heading our way.

As I was chewing over what to do next, he dropped the backpack in my lap. He grabbed my pistol and examined it methodically, checking scopes and ranges. I snatched it back and shoved it in its holster.

“No, we’re not trading guns. If you want one, there’s one buried in the snow somewhere.”

He gave me a startled look, one that clearly stated that he was unused to people acting or talking to him in such a way. Before I could regret my actions, I tossed the backpack over my shoulder and logged out of the console.

I tossed him the biochip before kicking the small couch out of the way. “Here, you can have this. I don’t need it any more.”

Jahanadar snatched it out of the air, tucking it away in his belt. “Where are you heading?”

“Server rooms. You?”

“I’ll take the barracks.”

Good. The barracks was the last thing on my list, so for him to take it out was actually helping me in this situation. I was just glad he wasn’t coming with me. He would be one less distraction I would have to deal with.

I slightly opened the door and peered out. “Watch out for the main hallways. I slicked them down with oil so they’ll probably be slippery. Watch your back and find a real gun when you can.”

He was silent, but I heard the I’ve done this before in his stoicism. I waved him away, unholstering my pistol and glanced down the other direction in the hallway. No footsteps rang out loudly enough to give me warning that soldiers were near.

“Stay vigilant, little shadow fox,” Jahanadar murmured. “As you know, the consequences for our failure are high.”

My head snapped back. “You know what happens if we loose?”

He didn’t respond, instead nodding at the exit. I refocused on the goal at hand, gripping the pistol tight. If I was going to do this, I couldn’t be distracted by what might happen to me.

The servers were on this floor but further into the gloom. Jahanadar had the easy job, if I was being honest.

Tightening the backpack’s straps, I crept to the left, my gun at the ready.

My heartbeat was thundering as the small office I exited disappeared with the turns I made. The heavy scent of mold swept in my lungs with every breath, the dampness clinging to my throat. I swallowed down what I could.

I rechecked the ammunition in the gun.

I did a double take.

Four of the six darts were missing.

I was going to kill Jahanadar: I needed those more than he did! Twenty or so guards protected the server rooms no matter what was happening in the rest of the fortress. They never left their post and they were the highly trained compared to the other soldiers.

Growling, I reached the hallway of the servers. Three men were stationed outside, desperately attempting to radio for answers. Only static answered them.

I could easily take them out, but then I would be without three fourths of my ammo. Then again, they were holding real guns.

Aiming at their necks, I fired in quick succession. One guard down, two, three. Whatever was in the tranq tips worked much faster than usual, knocking them out instantly.

I swept over to them, holstering my tranq gun and yanking a pistol from one man’s grip. Turning it over in my hand, I was furious to see that only one bullet remained in the chamber.

Strucker.

Oh, I hated that man.

I knelt and checked the other’s guns. Completely empty.

Growling curses, I unslung my bag and plucked out the knife. I pried off a panel and hot wired the door open. With a clank, the latch clicked and door swung open.

There were about ten men inside had their guns at the ready and pointed at me.

“Oh come on,” I said, signing. “Can’t I get one break? A single one?”

None of them answered, but their fingers pulled down on the trigger.

I leapt at them, swinging my bag towards one man to knock a whole in their impenetrable semicircle. With the crowbar and other materials inside, it was more than heavy enough to make a dent in his helmet.

He went flying into his companions with a satisfying smack. I continued to throw the backpack around, knocking misfiring guns out of men’s hands and slamming their foreheads. No doubt I caused them concussion after concussion.

There was a steady hum of the servers as I hit and swung and kicked. When they were all unconscious, I knelt to check the gun for ammo only to find none.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I said, dropping the rifle on the floor. No wonder the guns fired but didn’t hurt anything. I half expected one of the servers to get a hole blown in them during our little altercation.

Stack after stack of computing power was laid out in a neat grid in front of me. Hundreds of little wires and blinking lights covered the computer towers. I couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it, but I did know how to lock this place down.

I strode over to one of the towers, kneeling down to examine its base. Thick lines ran from each tower down into the floor. I took out the knife and began razor the rubber open and copper apart.

The tower went dark.

At least something was going right. I went over to the next and repeated the process again and again until it was a room full of shredded rubber and wire. When all the towers were dark, I eased the backpack off my shoulders and sat against the far wall.

My adrenaline-fueled breaths eased and I unholstered the other pistol and placed them both by my bag.

I closed my eyes in relief.

“Really, Angelova? Sleeping on the job?”

I jerked my head up. My tired eyes took a second to focus in on the men standing in between the towers. All my favorites: Jahanadar, Strucker, and Esper.

Strucker had a gun to Jahanadar’s temple as he scowled dangerously at me, daring me to make one wrong move. The Iranian operative was cold-faced and murderous. No doubt he could break every bone in Strucker’s body with a pinkie.

As it was, Strucker wasn’t letting him have any room to escape or fight back.

I glanced at Esper, even though his tone was jesting, every line in his body was full of tension. He was warning me without saying a word. His eyes darted to Jahanadar and back to me, raising an eyebrow.

“You failed, Miss Angelova,” Strucker said. “Your game is up. We caught him and we caught you.”

In a blink, men filed into every opening and pointed their weapons at me. There was no doubt these were loaded. One wrong move and I would be dead on the spot.

My mind whirled to find a way out. Glancing about, I had no options but the pistols at my side.

Forgetting which gun was which, I scrabbled for one and clutched it in shaking hands. I backed up against the wall. My shoulders hit concrete and I shuddered against it. I jabbed the gun in my neck with a determination that startled even me.

Everyone in the room froze, even Strucker. Panic swept across all their faces that made me almost smile. For some reason or another, they cared if I lived or died,

Jahanadar’s furious eyes dimmed while Esper’s took on wide panic. The muzzle in my neck was cold and sent chills up and down my spine. My finger trembled as I began to squeeze it.

“An operative never gives up willingly,” I whispered. “May the shadows that follow me finally rest.”

I locked eyes with Esper, willing him to read the last thoughts hovering in my mind. Even if he couldn’t actually read my mind, maybe my expression would tell it all.

Even though his expression was one of horror and fright, he nodded. His jaw clenched as if he felt was I was going to do next.

The gun went off and everything went black.

\- -

In the darkness that followed, my conscious mind was alive, even if I couldn’t feel a thing. Was it death or unconsciousness? I couldn’t be sure if I was merely sleeping.

What I as sure of, there was a whisper in a dark corner of my mind. I couldn’t tell what it was telling me, but I knew that it was my phantom friend.

The more I concentrated on it, the more the murmur became clear:

A small girl, a large part to play. Unseen by the world, treasured by those close to her. Caught in a twisted game that is not her own doing. Started as a pawn, but becoming the bishop she’s supposed to be.

Melina Angelova, more than you know rests on your shoulders. To bid you safety is fruitless, what with the circumstances you find yourself in. What we can give you is this. . .

And the whisper started over. With each repetition, what it said it was going to give me became slightly clearer. However, I wasn’t able to make it out until something permeated my consciousness: you are one of us now.

\- -


	14. The Celebrating of the Season

With a startled gasp, I bolted upwards, heaving for breath. I was back in my cell, everything dark and shadowed. The hallway outside the window was darkened, too, and no men patrolled there.

I was alive.

It was the dart that was in the pistol, not the bullet.

My fingers fumbled for my neck and I winced when I touched a thrumming bruise. It was large and covered most of my skin there. I was sure it was red and inflamed, but I was grateful it was dark so I couldn’t see the mark on me.

A large part of me was relived. I was alive! But a very secret, private part of me wished the gun actually had been loaded. Then I wouldn’t be here anymore.

I brought my knees up to my chest and allowed the stampede of emotions I had been withholding to swallow me. First came overwhelming grief. For what, I could pinpoint, only that the feeling was as raw and unspoken as any I’d ever felt before.

It left me hollow, bereft of the fight I’d bolstered in myself for so long. I squeezed my legs in a poor attempt to comfort myself.

Following the grief was a certain sense of peace. I was safe. I survived another one of Strucker’s tests. Barely, and I probably will receive consequences for my little stunt. But I did do everything he asked.

. . . My little stunt. Firing at myself. The swallowing darkness after. The whisper telling me I was one of them.

The realization hit me that something happened in my unconscious state. Someone, or something, had spoken to me and seemingly knew my position in life and what I was going through.

Started as a pawn, but becoming the bishop she’s supposed to be. A chess reference? Sure sounded like one.

Bishops can move diagonally on any square that corresponds to their color. Unseen, they could travel great distances across the board. There was no limit to the squares they could travel.

Why would it call me a bishop?

If they hadn’t noticed, I was currently stuck in a cell in the middle of a HYDRA facility. There was no way I was free to leave or move as I pleased. I was stuck here and there was nothing I could do.

And what did I was now one of them mean?

Running a hand through my tresses, I curled back onto the mattress and it squeaked beneath me. I sighed and slowly allowed my body to relax. It didn’t ache as much as I expected it to, but my neck throbbed like nothing else.

The door hinge squeaked and swung open. I started out of my fetal position.

Two figures crept in and softly sealed the door behind them. One shushed when the other tripped in the gloom. I snorted when I realized who they were.

“Guys, I’m already awake.”

Wanda’s fingers glowed red and I could make out Pietro’s smile. They plopped down on either side of me. Warmth enveloped me as I felt Pietro toss an arm across my shoulders and Wanda leaned into me.

“Why are you guys here? I’m guessing I’m supposed to be on lockdown with no visitors.”

“Well, it’s a special day. We had to celebrate!” Pietro pulled out a small bundle from his jacket. “Sure, it isn’t Christmas Eve in Novi Grad, but who’s missing the town drunks, anywho? The light show was never that good. Always a bulb or two fizzled out on the great tree.”

“Wait, it’s Christmas?” I said.

“Happy Holidays, lischka!”

A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it. Why wouldn’t it be Christmas by now? It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. For several months to have gone by now, it made sense.

Pietro undid the twine around whatever he was holding, dumping the items in my lap. Small, waxen cylinders and sticky-coated treats fell in my hands. A soft scent of sugar and lemon drifted upwards.

Wanda moaned. “If this is a joke, Pietro. . .”

“Nope!” he said proudly. “I snuck out while Melina was starting the lockdown. I got candles and lemon tarts. You’ll never believe how expensive these things are!”

“Which is why you stole them.”

“Maybe. . . If anything, it’s their own fault for making their prices so high. They’re basically begging for people to steal these things.”

I snorted, for once ignoring Pietro’s blatant disregard of the law. I was grateful to have a little something special for a holiday I didn’t even know what happening.

Pietro struck a match and passed me a flickering candle. I held it in my hands, staring into the dancing flame with fascination.

“So, Mel, what happened yesterday?” Wanda asked. “Pietro and I were enjoying a quiet morning practicing our abilities when all of a sudden everything when dark. Doors starting closing off. We halfway thought the Avengers were here.”

“Of course it wasn’t the Avengers,” Pietro ruffled my hair. “It was our own little fox.”

“Strucker was livid after you shot yourself. I thought he was going to take the other gun and be done with you.”

I winced. “He wanted me to act like this was a mission. And if it was, operatives who are trapped and cornered end their life so they can’t be taken in an tortured.”

“Was there really two guns?” Pietro’s voice dropped to concern. “One with a tranquilizer dart and the other a bullet?”

I stared even more intently at the candle.

“That was stupidity at its finest, Melina.”

“Well, you should look in a mirror more often,” I snapped back, “you’re the definition of it.”

Instead of lashing out at me, Pietro squeezed me tighter. “Tell us everything that happened yesterday.”

Sighing, I launched into a greatly abbreviated account of what occurred yesterday. I left out the animating shadows, but I told them everything else. I couldn’t see their expressions, but from their body language, I could see them shift from surprise, worry, to disbelief.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Wanda said, “Jahanadar shot at you, but it was a blank, and he didn’t finish the mission by snapping your neck or something?”

“Remember, I still had a loaded dart gun. I could have taken him down if I wanted to.”

“After seeing what you could do with just a pocket knife, there’s no doubt you could have,” Wanda said, reaching for one of the pastries in my lap.

I snatched one for myself before Pietro could take the rest. The next few moments were quiet as we inhaled the scent of frosted lemon.

“This is the best smelling thing I have ever encountered,” Wanda sighed. “It’s been too long since I’ve had real food.”

“That’s nothing. I’ve been living off of serums for months,” I said. “Besides that granola bar you handed me. Thanks, Pietro.”

A grin darted across his face. “You’re welcome. You seemed to be near keeling-over without it. And a passed out Melina Angelova would be no good to anyone.”

Warm wax touched my hand and I wiped it away with a thumb. The flame flickered as a draft swept across the room. We collectively shivered.

“Let’s not just look at them. Let’s eat!” Pietro said

I grinned and nearly shoved the whole pastry into my mouth. The reasonable part of me made me stop and take very small, coveting bites. The powered sugar melted on my tongue, mixed with hints of lemon and butter.

At the same moment, the three of us moaned in pleasure.

Stickiness coated my fingertips and I licked what I could off them. Savoring the rest of the treat, I ate delicate bite by bite.

“This is heavenly,” Wanda said. I glanced over to see her eyes closed in bliss. Pietro wore the same expression. Smiling, I copied them.

It heightened the sweetness the more I sucked. All too soon, the taste evaporated and I was left with only a memory of pastries. It reminded me so much of all the things I used to bake but was always unable to sample.

Licking the last of the stickiness from them, I listed my head. “Where did you get these? They’re not as good as Mom used to make them.”

“Donna’s. I guess they’ve gotten a lot of business since your Mom isn’t at her booth.”

I jerked up, staring at Pietro. “What? She’s not selling anymore?”

“The stall was closed, shuddered, and empty. She wasn’t there. I swung by your place, too, just in case.”

“How is she?” I asked, my voice cracking,

“I don’t know. She wasn’t there. I checked your apartment and it looks deserted. I think she’s skipped town, maybe she left after you were taken.”

“She’s safe?”

“As far as I know.”

A relieved breath exited my lungs as I settled back into the warmth of the twins. Missing Mom hadn’t seemed to cross my mind until now. I was too busy trying to stay alive, I could barely give her a passing thought.

Did I miss her?

The answer, sadly, was not as much as I thought I should. She was Mom and it had been a long time since I received love or kindness from her. She never protected me as I thought a mother should, instead deciding to punish and reprimand me nearly all day long.

Did I still want to keep her safe? Yes. Whether I felt warmth to her or not, she was still my mom.

But the longer she stayed out of my way, the better. The longer she was safe, the better. Even if that meant that my only family was thousands of miles away.

I rubbed the candle. Pietro sighed and reached for something else in his track suit. The crisp sound of paper crackled through the cell.

I could barely make out a small stack of envelopes, held together by thin twine. My eyes narrowed. After all this time, he still had them?

“We’ve been able to read through a couple,” Wanda said. “But we have very little time to read them without being caught.”

My cheeks burned in embarrassment. I’d hoped they would have read through all of them without me, so the twins wouldn’t be asking me about the melodramatic me of another lifetime.

Honestly, I’d completely forgotten everything I’d ever written about. There were rants about the struggles of middle school and dealing with my mother, no doubt.

Pietro rifled through the stack, occasionally sliding one out to glance at the date. When he reached the middle, a particularly heavy one fell into his lap.

“What’s this one?”

Curious, I plucked the cream-colored envelope from his hand, catching a drifting whiff of cinnamon as I inspected it. It was weighty and made my hand dip.

My eyes watered as memories of my last night of freedom flooded back. I remembered how cold I was, how overjoyed I was to see Pietro, how I hoped everything would return back to normal once more.

If only I had known.

I readjusted my ankle and metal dug into my skin. The small electronic chip shifted beneath my sock in a haphazard fashion. With as little movement as possible, I moved it to a more comfortable position.

Flipping the envelope over, I studied the date. It was right after the twins volunteered.

“Oh!” I exclaimed quietly, yanking it open.

Hundreds of photos spilled across the cot. Careful not to drop wax on them, I glanced at so many memories painted in front of me.

Most of them were of Pietro, Wanda, and I as we grew up: making snowmen in the winter, funny faces at the camera, us covered in sugar after helping Mom bake.

Pietro pulled out a deeply creased picture form his pocket and placed it among the others. I recognized it as the one he showed me earlier.

It matched a few others.

“You were going to give us all of these?” Wanda asked, sorting through some.

“I didn’t even know I had these!” Warm memories of my childhood came back with a vibrancy that rushed and filled my brain.

We spent the next couple hours remembering all the good times we had as kids. Our grins nearly matched those of our younger counterparts. Laughter drifted from our mouths and filled the cramped and moldy cell.

A little spark of hope caught inside me.

This is why I was fighting. This is why I was going to survive this.

After a long time of memories and laughter, Wanda eventually nodded off against me and I found myself and Pietro whispering about the pranks we used to pull.

“And remember the time we shoved Mrs. Collins in the freezer?” Pietro chuckled.

I had to bite my lip to keep from bursting aloud in laughter.

Mrs. Collins was a poor, American woman who came over to teach us poor refugees and blights. She had high hopes of making us the rags-to-riches stories that would make her a reveled teacher.

But her methods had much to be desired.

In culmination after a particularly harrowing lesson, Pietro and I tricked her into walking into the school’s freezer. And we locked her in there for a good hour.

The next week she left to back to America.

“What we could do now with my powers and your masterminding.”

I let a faraway smile grow across my face. “Novi Grad, Sokovia would never know what was coming. We’d rule the town!”

He found my hand and intwined our fingers, squeezing my hand gently. “Merry Christmas, lischka.”

I rested my head against his shoulder, staring at the shadows cast across the pictures by the flickering candle in our hands.

“Merry Christmas, kotyonek.”

He dropped a kiss onto my forehead, pulling me even closer. For now, everything was okay.

\- -


End file.
